Orcs and Humans:Brothers in Blood
by Seth Roneen
Summary: Orcs and Humans have always been at war, save for one instance. Is it possible for a human to prove himself a brother in the eyes of the Horde? XXX This story has been placed on indefinite hold.XXX
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own WOW. If I did, I wouldn't be writing this.

Blood and Brothers- Prologue

The battle for control of Azeroth has raged for nearly fifty years. In so short a time, so much has happened in this ancient world, forged by magic, bloodshed, and the savage might of Warcraft. This world, like all those in the Great Dark Beyond, has been shaped not only in part by the hands of the Creator Race, the Titans, but also by the inhabitants left behind to direct the world's ultimate destiny. Azeroth is special amongst the myriad worlds, for though it's history is steeped in conflict, somehow it's inhabitants continue to thrive and evolve though beset by each other, and otherworldly adversaries.

Though not the oldest races of Azeroth, the Orcs and Humans have been at constant and brutal odds since the two came into contact with each other. From the ominous shadow of the Dark Portal, to the slopes of the great Mt. Hyjal in the battle against the Burning Legion, the tale of the continuing relationship between the Orcs and Humans is one laced with fear, anger, hatred, betrayal, and a great sense of misunderstanding.

The Humans were once a noble race, and for the most part, they have maintained this idealism. However, as is the case in all sentient races, the lure of power has corrupted the spirit of men throughout the world of Azeroth. The once noble spirit of men is now nearly all but extinct, with the great majority of humanity either enslaved in undeath by the tyrant Lich King, or scattered throughout the world, struggling to survive.

The race of Orcs is one marked by warfare, betrayal and tragedy. Through evils both of and not of their own doing, they have run the gamut of near-transcendent spiritual states, from damnation to salvation, and are struggling in a harsh land to redeem the one proud shamanistic lineage which is their birthright, and they work daily to rediscover the way of the warrior. Who can say what the result would be if somehow, the two races could find some way to understand each other.

This is a story of one who tried…

…and succeeded.


	2. The Wanderer

Disclaimer: I do not own WOW. If I did, I wouldn't be writing this.

Chapter 1: The Wanderer

At first glance, the land of Durotar seems uninhabitable. A great, seemingly barren wasteland of dusty crags, windswept plains, and yawning canyons baked by sweltering heat would cause many travelers to simply look away, searching for safer passage to the northern regions of Kalimdor. Added to the dangers from harpies, scorpions, and the vicious and feral Quillboars, and many wonder who would consider this sandy place an area to settle.

However, those who would scoff at this place would not recognize it for its unique beauty. The brutal sun, hot enough to bake a man in his own skin at its zenith, cast a blood-red glow over the land at dusk, bleeding away to a ruby-red haze just before twilight. The canyons and caverns, those free of harpy infestation, provide a quiet refuge for travelers to sit and meditate in silence, secluded away from the tribulations of the outside world. At the Southern end, a short sail distant from the coastline are the tropical Echo Isles, as beautiful as they are dangerous, though the latter is easily manageable to a skilled warrior. But all these pale in comparison to the settlement at the northern tip of Durotar. A mighty fortress city, a testament to one race's savage and indomitable cunning and determination to survive and thrive against all odds.

Orgrimmar, the Great Capital City of the Orcish Horde.

Though seemingly of crude construction, there was a rugged beauty in the architecture, reflecting the rugged beauty of the Orcs' new homeland. Great animal tusks protruded from large huts and sheds, where animal skins stretched tightly over the roofs, protecting the inhabitants from the harsh desert sun. The clang of battle echoed through the canyon stretching the length of the city, while grunts and howls of triumph and encouragement could be discerned over the almost constant ringing sound of iron clashing against steel. The Orcish race was one built upon combat, honor, personal pride and valor. It was very rare for one who was not of Orcish descent to be seen within the city, although any who were allies of the Horde were welcome within the safety of Orgrimmar.

So it was with a great deal of surprise, (and no small amount of open hostility,) that the lone figure approaching the great wall of Orgrimmar was looked upon with distrust. Some of the older Orcs, those who were not moving slowly towards their weapons, were nearing laughing to themselves at the strange events that were unfolding. The figure moving rapidly closer to the walls appeared to be a human.

The human moved with a long, loping stride, as if he had all the time in the world. His white tunic was tinged with the reddish-brown sand of the desert, but it dulled in contrast to the long, pristinely white cape which wrapped around his form, ending in a scarf which covered the majority of his face. Though no weapons could be visibly seen on the stranger, he carried a staff which matched his height, which from a distance was well over six feet. Atop this staff, briskly flapping in the strong wind, a white flag signaled his intention.

Truce, and peace.

Many of the orcs stationed at the ramparts of the wall, most of them young and eager for action, were ready to strike down the stranger where he stood, while the older veterans waited for the events to play out, ready at a seconds notice to spring into action should this become a trap. However, the white-robed form strode calmly to the Gates of Orgrimmar, and stopped several feet before the two powerful guards. Though the orcs great broad forms dwarfed the human, he was tall, lean, and carried an aura of dominance. He lifted his face, all but his eyes shrouded by the white cape. He looked at the orc guards with eyes devoid of fear, and they glowed like amber jewels.

"Greetings, and good day to you, noble defenders of Durotar." The voice was deep, yet smooth and firm, carrying weight but not hostility. Few humans knew the name of the Orcish homeland, and few who did chose to return. "I have journeyed far to speak to your leader, the Warchief Thrall. I come bearing news of great importance."

The two orcs at the gate, whose names were Torgan and Kazuk, eyed the strange man warily. Torgan was younger, an orc possessing great physical strength, even for an orc. He was visibly fingering the large, double-bladed axe he wore at his left side, which for him, could easily be wielded in one hand. Kazuk was an older veteran, who looked on at the stranger with distrust in his eyes. While his hands clenched tighter about his great obsidian-tipped spear, he made no hostile move toward the white figure.

'Your kind is not welcome in orc lands, human," Torgan growled, his distaste clearly evident. He was appalled and outraged that the old enemies of the Horde would have the audacity to even enter Durotar, let alone come so close to the capital city. "You have half a breath to turn around and run away before my axe cleaves you in two!"

"I did not come here to fight, my good orc. I came here to inform, and perhaps benefit." The voice did not display the slightest fear or apprehension. However, Kazuk thought he heard the slightest edge of impatience, or was it desperation?

"My younger friend is right, and you have no place in Durotar, human," Kazuk interjected, sending a glance in Torgan's direction. "However, I am curious how you know about our city, and the name of our leader, and am more interested in knowing how you came here, through the Orcs that I myself have patrolling our land?"

The human's eyes lifted in what seemed like a smile, but he said nothing.

"Answer, you weakling!" Torgan roared, brandishing the huge axe.

"Enough Torgan!" shouted Kazuk, sending a smoldering glare at the younger orc. Torgan bristled, but begrudgingly lowered his axe, continuing to glare at the white-robed figure. Keeping his eye on Torgan and the stranger, Kazuk continued.

"Your kind is not welcome among us."

"I know"

"Then why have you come, knowing you would be refused?"

"I cannot tell you."

"Then you cannot enter."

"I will tell all once I have spoken to the Warchief."

"How do I know you are not an assassin, sent by the humans to murder our leader?"

"I can only give you my word that I am not." replied the stranger, his tone quiet yet calm, almost conversational. Kazuk began to grow tired of this bizarre individual's evasive answers.

"Listen well, Human." Kazuk's voice took on a dangerous edge. "This is our city, an Orc city. You are greatly outnumbered and in a place where you should have already been dead. Either you tell me your business now, or I will let my young friend deal with you in his own way. Do not test my patience."

The human continued to gaze at the older orc, his amber gaze never leaving the orc's black eyes. "I come with news of the Demons, and a plan which involves the orcs"

"Demons?" exclaimed Torgan, his tone filled with disgust and disbelief. The only demons he had fought were the grells and Felhounds populating the wilderness. While fierce, they were nothing that the greater population of Orgrimmar needed to worry about. A mere handful of his own warriors could handle them in large groups of twenty or less.

"Yes, demons, and ones not to be scoffed at."

"We have our own way of dealing with demons stranger. I fought against the Burning Legion at Mt. Hyjal." Kazuk said. "What is so important that a human needs to speak with the Warchief? And what is this 'plan' you speak of?"

"I can say no more, only that the Warchief must know of the news I bring."

"Give me one reason to let you in!" roared Kazuk, ready now to beat Torgan to the event of silencing this annoying man in white.

The stranger looked at them both calmly, his amber gazed moving from Torgan to the older orc. Kazuk almost thought he saw sorrow in the golden eyes. He spoke one word that echoed in Kazuk's mind, and shook his warrior's soul.

"Kil'jaeden"

Kazuk glared long and hard at the human, a grim expression etched upon his scarred face. Then he turned around and beckoned to his comrade.

"Follow us. We will take you to the Warchief."

_Chapter 1 finished. Hey that sounded pretty good if I do say so myself. But I'm biased so I can't say that with any real feeling. Anyway, this is my first fic on this site, and my first WOW story as well. Reviews welcome, and much appreciated. The story is too young to send flames, but if you do, I will use them to roast marshmallows. YUM!_

_Hope you enjoy the story. Pray that I can keep it going!_


	3. Meetings

Disclaimer: Still don't own WOW. Wish I did though.

Chapter 2: Meetings

The inner workings of Orgrimmar were just as spectacular as it's impressive outward appearance, and just as intimidating. Crafted from stone, sand, and basalt, the huge city spread out within a massive canyon, the majority of it in the open air, allowing a visitor to gaze out over the valleys and watch the Orcish race as they went about their lives, the day to day mundane tasks no different than any other races. To one not of Orgrimmar's population, or one with badly biased viewpoints, it was a surprise to see what had once been called one of the most ruthless and bloodthirsty races of Azeroth living lives which seemed so…simple.

Within the Valley of Strength, where the Orcish vendors plied their respective trades, many aspects of the day to day lives became better known to the eyes of their unknown visitor. Two male orcs argued with each other apparently over the high price of leather and fur, while a tradesman roared out the items he had available for purchase.

"If the two hagglers need more leather," thought the stranger, "I believe they find some excess from that fellow's lungs."

The small entourage had started at the gates, with Torgan and Kazuk escorting their visitor through the byways of Orgrimmar. Since entering the city, glances had been cast in his direction, and more than a few cries and shouts, of both anger and fear, had found their way to his ears. His two guards had not spoken a word since their exchange at the gate, and the stranger had not deemed it wise to spark up a conversation. The older orc had been silent since his talk of demons, and the younger even now looked more than willing to carve him into tiny pieces and happily cast him to the carrion eaters. However, though the white figure kept a brisk pace to match the massive strides of his escorts, he could not help but gaze around in wonder at the crude yet fascinating beauty of Orcish architecture.

They had built there city from wood and skin, but incorporated the stone of the canyon into the construction. Utilizing the stone cliffs, many of the buildings were supported along the far wall by massive trusses, held upright by the rocky outcroppings. For those buildings wholly within the valley, circular huts maximized the living space, surrounded with leather, bones, tile, and odd-looking Orcish totems whose meaning could only be speculated. In the center of it all, an enormous tower rose into the sky. Though he could not see what lay at the top, he thought he heard the flapping of wings, and a screeching sound which emanated from the high summit of the tower.

As he moved further into the city, the stranger noticed the sun being blocked out. Looking up, he saw that the stone overhang of the canyon created a natural sunshade. The sudden drop in temperature could be felt almost immediately, and he found himself strangely at ease with this area of the city. All around, the shadow of the sun peeking over the rock created a reddish-purple glow within this curving canyon. Even here, Orcs conducted business, moving in and out of structures seemingly built into the canyon walls.

"Keep up human!" growled Torgan, who did not even bother to look down at his charge. "If we leave you behind, you will not even make it out of the Drag." For effect, he quickened his already fast pace. Though the stranger gave no indication of annoyance or discomfort, he picked up his feet and hastened to match the orc's speed.

They came at last to another valley, where the canyon walls opened into a large space. However, this valley was instantly discernable from the one he had entered when he first came inside. At the far western edge of the area, a gigantic stronghold dwarfed every other structure in the valley. A long stone archway led to the apparent entrance to the structure, which was a yawning portal twice again the size of any orc. It was this path that the two orcs led him across, and though no visible change could be seen, the stranger felt within himself a growing sense of apprehension. A shadow moved across his path, cast from some massive, unknown object. Glancing up, he could not believe such a thing had escaped his notice.

It was a tree, but it's shape was unmistakable. Like some twisted work of art, the tree had a large, squat trunk, and only two limbs which reached out and ended in twisted branches to resemble claws. At the top, two branches curved out ward from the crown, stretching out like a pair of horns. A hideous face had been carved into the tree top, and laid across this massive monstrosity were enormous metal plates, stained black, matching the color of the tree. The stranger knew this what this beastly thing represented. His amber eyes flashed golden, and he halted in his tracks before the demon plates.

"All that remains of Mannoroth the Destructor, the Pit-lord of rage and hate."

Torgan and Kazuk stopped as well, glancing back at the stranger. Torgan said nothing, only continued to stare at the man with an expression of curiosity and disbelief. Kazuk came forward and simply stared at the white figure, his eyes not altogether hiding his discomfort. More and more questions were left unanswered, and they began to wonder now how a human could know so much about the demons, let alone the one responsible for the Orc's nightmarish spiral into bloodthirsty madness.

"Come, human," stated Kazuk, "The Warchief is ahead."

That being said, the stranger glanced up once more at the demonic visage of Mannoroth, then turned and followed the two orcs into the portal.

Within the Great Hall of Grommash Hold, high seat of the Orcish Horde, a lone orc sat upon a wooden throne. Though young of years, he seemed to carry a great weight upon him, making his already battle-scarred visage seem even more careworn. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, this orc radiated charisma and determination, and from him there came an aura of great strength. The power of this orc's life force was a tangible thing, almost as if he projected his living spirit to do battle at his side.

This was Thrall, Warchief of the Horde.

A hero of the Orcish people, Thrall had seen much in his twenty-eight years. Born as a slave and gladiator, raised with human wisdom and training, his quick mind and cunning personality had served him well throughout his life. It was Thrall who broke the Alliance hold on the Orcish Horde, freeing them from both their imprisonment and awakening them to the ancient shamanistic lineage long ago buried by demonic corruption. At his side hung the powerful weapon named after its most famous owner, the mighty Orgrim Doomhammer. It was the aged warrior who inspired Thrall to release his people from the Alliance prison camps, and work to reclaim the honor his people had lost. When Doomhammer fell, Thrall felt a great sense of loss over his passing. However, with the support of his freed people, Thrall had taken up Doomhammer's weapon, and donned the black armor, unanimously becoming the new Warchief.

Since, then, through all of the trials his race had overcome, Thrall still worked tirelessly to secure his people's place in this new world. In his heart, Thrall knew that one day, his people could live in peace, free from worrying about invasion from other lands, and more importantly, any lingering taint the Burning Legion had left upon his race. Even now, though it was four years later, the memory of Grom Hellscream weighed heavily upon his heart. Though he remembered the powerful chieftain with pride at what his sacrifice had done for the Orcs, there was still a deep hurt at the loss of his friend. It was with this thought in mind that he labored to drive the last remnants of demonic corruption from his land, and hunt them until he scoured their presence forever from the world.

When the door to the great hall swung open, Thrall immediately straightened, leaping to his feet as his mind registered the sight before his eyes. A human, swathed in white, was walking quite nonchalantly into the chamber. He was flanked on either side by a large orc, both of whom Thrall recognized. Torgan was looking as somber and cross as ever, a permanent scowl etched upon his face. Though not many years younger than Thrall himself, Torgan was an experienced, if somewhat rash orc, who had proven himself many times before in skirmishes against the Quillboars and Centaurs. In several ways, Torgan reminded him of Hellscream, though that warrior was still to this day, in Thrall's opinion, without equal.

Kazuk on the other hand, was older, a veteran of many battles, indicated by the crisscrossing maze of scars etched upon his haggard face. Kazuk had been among the orcs who came to Azeroth following the Second War, and had fought under the banner of the Bleeding Hollow clan. He had been a younger orc then, several years older than Thrall was now. Though nearing his sixtieth winter, Kazuk was a powerful, seasoned warrior, possessing superior battlefield tactics and the loyalty of many of the younger orc generations. He was tenacious, calculating, and very patient in dealing with both allies and enemies.

As they brought the human to stand before him, Thrall could only guess at his purpose. He did not appear to be in shackles, so he could not be a prisoner. If he was an assassin, Thrall doubted he would even be standing here, after coming through both Torgan and Kazuk. His white clothes and the flag atop his staff said his message rather clearly. Thrall could not sense any evil from the man, but there was power there, one that his shamanistic farsight could not identify. As he came to stand before Thrall, the man in white lifted his head to gaze directly into the Warchief's eyes. The amber orbs met Thrall's and held them unwaveringly. Thrall returned the look, his own eyes never shifting from the strangers. They remained this way for several seconds, as Torgan and Kazuk looked on with curiosity and mixed interest. This silent test of wills continued until finally, it was the stranger who broke the silence.

"Greetings to you, Warchief of the Horde," stated the stranger, his deep voice carrying the same tone of polite authority he had given his two escorts. "I have come bearing news most urgent."

"Before you begin," Thrall interjected, "I have questions of my own." His eyes never left the strange human who seemed so oddly polite in the presence of Orcs. Though his tone and mannerisms spoke otherwise, Thrall had seen something within his eyes. Something powerful, something…indescribable. There was strength there, and it was strong indeed.

"First of all," continued Thrall, "I would like to know why a human has entered our lands."

"Your guards said as much at the gates. I informed them that all would become clear after we had spoken."

"Humans have taken much from us."

"And the same can be said of the orcs," the stranger said quietly. Instantly, Torgan became enraged. Once again, brandishing his axe, he whirled on the stranger, his eyes blazing with wrath.

"Silence, you scum! Show respect in front of the Warchief!"

"Torgan!" shouted Thrall, "He came here in peace, and I will not have an enraged orc murdering anyone inside the Great Hall!"

Torgan, cowed by the Warchief's words, continuing to glare at the stranger, lowered his axe, and stood in stormy silence, anger radiating from his massive form. Satisfied that there would be no further trouble from the young warrior, Thrall turned his attention back to the human.

"I would know who I speak to before we continue." Thrall was slightly annoyed at the man's pithy comment as well. "There is precious little trust among us right now. We don't need to turn this into a situation be both would dislike. Who are you stranger, and why have you come?"

The man in white hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to reveal his identity. At last, he sighed, and lifted his shrouded head once more. As he did, one gloved hand reached up and pulled away the white scarf at his face, the cloth coming away like a mummy's wrappings, uncovering the man's countenance. His hair, held in place by the cowl, fell down his back, where it came to rest just past his shoulders. It was the color of moondust, straight and thick, and glistened in the torchlight. He had an oval-shaped face, almost feminine, dominated by his unusual amber-colored eyes. His mouth was set in an unsmiling line, though he wore a tired expression, almost like one of surrender. As his mask fell away, he started to speak.

"My named is Sethrezin, and I am a wanderer from the East."

"He spoke of demons, Warchief," offered Kazuk, drawing a swift glance from Thrall. "He said that there was a plan involving the Horde."

"Demons?" exclaimed Thrall, his voice mimicking the same surprise Torgan had at the gate. However, unlike the younger orc's, Thrall's surprise was not laced with disbelief, but instead with pure rage.

"Those in the Ragefire Chasm are bad enough, not to mention the Burning Blade within Durotar." While a problem, these enemies were being managed, with a visible end in sight. Thrall intended to cleanse his race of all demonic influence, and any mention of its taint was quickly traced to its roots swiftly dealt with.

"I understand these problems, great Warchief," stated Sethrezin, seemingly nonplussed at being interrupted.

"Then why do you come to us? Do you have information which may lead to destroying them?

"He spoke of Kil'jaeden, Warchief." offered Kazuk. "It was the mention of that name which made us bring him to you."

At the sound of Kil'jaeden's name, Thrall's eyes sharpened and narrowed, regarding Sethrezin with closer scrutiny. Kil'jaeden the Deceiver was one of the leaders of the Burning Legion, second only to Archimonde, who was defeated at Mt. Hyjal. Both he and Archimonde the Defiler had been lieutenants to the Titan-turned Demon-Lord Sargeras, Ruler of the Burning Legion. Nearly, all of the high-ranking demons of the burning legion had fallen, leaving only Kil'jaeden and the remaining Nethrezim dreadlords. It had been Kil'jaeden who had originally sown the seed of demonic corruption in the race of Orcs. Though he had never been seen upon Azeroth, he was a demon-lord, said to be cunning and savage, as well as calculating and manipulative.

"Four years ago," Sethrezin continued, " The Burning Legion was shattered with the death of Archimonde at Mt. Hyjal. Shortly afterward, I felt a powerful force from the North. I traveled to Northrend where I saw a great pillar of blue light split the sky. The power emanating from the light was beyond comprehension."

"You believe that Kil'jaeden has returned to conquer Azeroth again?"

"I felt a powerful force in the north, but it was not demonic in essence."

"Then why do you speak of Kil'jaeden?"

"Kil'jaeden was responsible for creating the Lich King, the will behind the undead Scourge"

At this, Thrall was visible shocked. Torgan looked up with interest in his eyes, and Kazuk stood in silence, though his features had become even more haggard and grim. He had fought against the undead, and found them to be a vicious, relentless adversary. Their ranks swelled by every death, and it was difficult to kill what was already dead. They had nearly overwhelmed him at Mt. Hyjal, and he was in no hurry to combat them again.

"How do you know all this," asked Thrall, once again casting a wary glance at the stranger. His knowledge was almost uncanny, first his knowledge of Durotar and the Horde, then of Kil'jaeden and his past influence on the Orcs. He was becoming increasingly untrusting of this strange interloper who had shown himself to be a man of many mysteries.

"I have studied much in my lifetime," Sethrezin answered nonchalantly, "which is longer than you may think."

It wasn't an answer Thrall was satisfied with, but eager to hear more, he let Sethrezin continue.

"The Lich King has become too powerful for Kil'jaeden to control, and now he seeks to destroy his creation before it overwhelms him. The force I sensed in the north is proof. Somehow, the Lich King has increased in power, and now, he has enough strength to threaten the Demon-Lord."

"So you fear that this Lich King will destroy the demon?" Torgan asked, his tone almost incredulous. "If that's the case, he would be doing us a favor. Why should the Horde interfere?"

Sethrezin regarded the young orc with a baleful stare from his golden eyes.

"I believe you would find the Lich King to be more of a threat and menace than the Demon-lord, young warrior. The Lich King would consume his power, and you can imagine what force that would create upon the world can't you?"

Thrall listened intently to the stranger's words. It was true that the battle between the Lich King and the remnants of the Burning Legion was not of great concern to the Horde, but he had sworn to destroy any and all demonic taint. By destroying the last of the Demon-lords, he would be furthering his goal of redeeming his race wouldn't he? He also knew that if left unchecked, the power of the undead Scourge would consume the world. He knew that it would not discriminate between the members of the Human Alliance and the members of the Horde.

"What is your place in all this?" the Warchief asked Sethrezin. "Why is it that you come to us with this news?"

"I have discovered evidence that Kil'jaeden intends to use the Orcs to fight the Lich King."

"What?" roared Torgan. "the Horde would never side with demons again! This Demon-Lord would never convince the Orcs to fight for him.! We would sooner aid this Lich King!"

"Torgan, calm down!" cried Thrall, shaking his head in frustration over the fighter's repeated outbursts. Turning back to Sethrezin, he continued. Glancing back at the white figure, a shrewd look came into his eyes.

"You are not some emissary are you?" he asked, regarding Sethrezin with renewed distrust.

"You have no need to fear me Warchief, I do not come bearing word from Kil'jaeden nor the Lich King."

"Then who sent you, Sethrezin?"

"No one sent me, Warchief. I am here on my own accord. And please, call me Seth."

"You went through all the trouble to get here simply out of the goodness of your soul? Somehow I doubt that very much."

Seth smiled and answered calmly.

"I know why you do not trust me, but I assure you, I mean you no harm."

"How can I be sure of that?"

"Because, Kil'jaeden knows he will not convince the Orcs to join him willingly. They will never aid him, as long as you still live, Warchief Thrall."

"So you are here to do…what?"

"Enlist your aid."

"What?"

"Kil'jaeden has powerful allies to help him fight against the Lich King, but he has loose control over them. If his assassins kill you, Warchief, any number of his agents could then enslave the Horde, or perhaps make them think it was the Lich King's doing. Kil'jaeden believes he can punish both the Lich King and the Orcs together by making them kill each other off. Then, he can conquer Azeroth without impediment."

"You still have not answered my question," interrupted Thrall, his voice rising to a shout. "What do you want with the Horde?"

"To destroy both the Lich King and Kil'Jaeden!" Seth answered vehemently, shouting back at the Warchief, causing Torgan to go on the defensive again and Kazuk to grip his spear a bit tighter. Thrall and Seth continued to shout.

"Are you mad? The Horde could barely survive against the Legion at full strength, let alone the Scourge. Would you have me send the rest of my race to their doom?"

"Please understand," Seth pleaded, his composure and polite demeanor beginning to break down. "The Lich King will be weakened by Kil'jaeden's attack. Both will be vulnerable for a time. It will be a long fight, but if it works, the demons will be gone forever, and the Lich King's taint will be scoured as well. We can free the world from both tyrants at once!"

"Why come to the Horde?" asked Thrall, now instead of being curious, was completely baffled. Was this human really insane? "Why not go to the Alliance in Theramore. The humans would accept you there."

A bitter, almost amused look came into Seth's eyes.

"You know as well as I do that the Alliance is all but shattered. Even if they were not splitting apart, there are not enough members of the Alliance left to stand against the Lich King and Kil'jaeden."

"Then what do you suggest?" Thrall asked, his mind tickling with an idea which made his green face even greener. Part of him knew what was said before it left Seth's lips.

"Ally with the Alliance once again, against a common foe."

For several seconds, no one spoke. Even Torgan seemed frozen in stone, unbelieving of what he had just heard.

"Even if I was to consider this plan," Thrall stated slowly, judging each word, "the humans would never accept us as allies. Furthermore, too many members of the Horde hold too many grudges with the humans and the elves."

"What if there was someone to convince them? Someone who was an outsider, with ties to both sides who had nothing to gain.?"

"You plan to be a mediator between my people and yours?"

"I do not see any other option. I have my own reasons for seeking the fall of Kil'jaeden and the Lich King."

Thrall continued to gaze at the white-caped figure. He was internally weighing what was right over what was possible. Destroying Kil'jaeden meant destroying the Legion. Destroying the Lich King meant a safer world for his people. But helping the Alliance was something he had tried once before, with disastrous consequences. Many orcs had not yet forgotten, him being one of them. Still, as Seth has stated, he could see no other option either. The Horde was strong, but could not hope to defeat the power of both Kil'jaeden and the Lich King alone.

As he mulled over the events in his head, Seth simply stood awaiting the answer. He had regained his composure, his golden eyes calmly awaiting the Warchief's decision. After several long minutes, Thrall looked back at Seth, and gave his answer.

"The Horde will aid you for now, Sethrezin. However, you will not gain our favor so easily. The moment I sense that you have betrayed us, I swear, you will not live long enough to regret your foolishness."

"I understand, Warchief, and I thank you." Seth bowed his head ever so slightly, then came forward, his arm outstretched.

Thrall, looked at it hesitantly for several seconds, then glanced up into Seth's amber eyes. There was genuine gratitude there, and a feeling of great relief in their golden depths. He looked back at the arm, and extending his own, gripped Seth's forearm, as Seth did the same to him. The faintest traces of a smile found it's way to Thralls face. Seth spoke first.

"Then we have a bargain."

Thrall wondered if that was true.

_Whew! Finished! With the Chapter I mean, not the story. Speaking of which, I didn't really think the plot could get this complex when I started writing. Who really is the bad guy? Who is the main antagonist? Why am I asking you guys? And who is the mysterious Seth, who seems to know so, so much?_

_On a side note, on Seth's name. No it was not a self-insert. I just like the name when it came to my head. Not to be confused the Nethrezim, which are the dreadlords. Anyway, I hope you are enjoying the story, and I hope this chapter didn't get to boring for you. For all you action fans out there, don't get discouraged. I'll have some good fight sequences coming soon. Be patient and it will get good and gory. Well, not too gory. Have to keep it clean. Thanks for the reviews BTW! They inspire me to continue. I hope you'll keep reading, and thanks again for your support.J_


	4. Proclamation

Disclaimer: I don't own WOW. Blizzard does. When I get a job, maybe I'll try them.

Chapter 4: Proclamation

Prompted not to venture outside the safety of Grommash Hold until Thrall had properly informed the populace of Seth's new involvement, the stranger in white had obligingly accepted the Warchief's hospitality. Now, relatively safe and at ease inside a chamber Thrall's subordinates had provided for him, Seth took a moment to analyze his new surroundings. One passing glance at his new accommodations was proof that he was still not exactly welcome among the Orcs.

The chamber was stone and wood, displaying the same construction scheme he had seen since coming inside he city. It was cool, he could say that much, but carried all the welcoming ambiance of a prison cell. He could walk the entire length of the chamber with three strides. There was a cot set up in a corner along the right wall, the room's sole piece of furniture. There were no windows, though had there been, Seth was sure they would have been barred. There was only one door, one way in and out, and Seth was quite certain that there were guards posted outside the portal to ensure he did not leave before Thrall returned. Finding nothing else to do besides wait, Seth settled down on the cot, his hands clasped behind his head, and he took stock of his situation.

His first mission was more or less accomplished. He had arrived in Durotar and convinced the Orcs to help him. In his mind, this was more progress than he had dreamed. He had originally thought more cajoling would be necessary to enlist the Orcs to fight against Kil'jaeden. In addition, Seth had finally been able to witness the great city of Orgrimmar, and he had learned so much already. As the construction of the city indicated, what the Orcs lacked in style the made up for in practicality. They were not the ruthless, bloodthirsty monsters they were made out to be. They were not creatures of devoid of compassion and camaraderie. Already, from both the behavior of his two escorts, and the exchange with the Warchief, Seth had seen that they were an incredibly proud race, loathe to accept aid, and even less inclined to give it. From what he had studied of Orcish history, (what little there was to be found,) the Orcs simply suffered from a terrible mistake, one that was willingly inflicted upon the hapless race by individuals seeking even greater power. The Orcs were not to blame, only those whose greed led them all to damnation were responsible for the cruel fate this proud race had been forced to endure. Though he was human, and most would rightly think he should fight the orcs on principle, he could not bring himself to hate them. Rather, he admired the tenacious spirit and almost indomitable will of these very complex beings.

Where a normal human would have been shaking in fear in the same instance, or blindly screaming righteous threats at the orcs, he was filled with a deep sense of curiosity, and now that he thought about it, a large amount of fatigue. It had taken him several months to get this far, this deep into "hostile" territory, and now, the long nights were pressing in upon him. While not the most comfortable of locations, at least there was a roof over his head, and it was cool inside the stone as opposed to the sweltering heat of the dusty land outside. He continued to contemplate until he closed his eyes and drifted away to dream.

While Seth was contained within the stronghold, Thrall made his way to the Valley of Spirits, where he would address the greater bulk of the orcs within the city. Though he knew his position as Warchief would quell many doubts within the ranks, he knew that loyalties would be stretched and some faith would be lost. Allying with the humans was something the orcs used daily to compare something with impossibility. To them, an alliance with the humans was very much akin to expecting a blizzard in the Tanaris desert. He knew convincing them to go along with this stranger would be a daunting task in itself, one that many of the older orcs would consider sheer lunacy.

Still, Thrall could find no fault in Seth's sincerity. He had seen no trace of deceit in the human's odd eyes, only a fierce pride and determination, of a caliber even few orcs could attest to. No matter how he wanted it to be true, he could not bring himself to believe that Seth was a liar. His shaman and warrior instincts urged him to believe the wanderer, and beyond his personal feelings, there was the fate of the Horde to consider.

Though Seth's information, and the methods he had somehow used to acquire it, were suspicious, he could not fault the truth of the matter. Kil'jaeden, last of the Demon-Lords, and the key to forever shattering the Burning Legion, was planning yet another siege against the world. And now, as if the demons were not enough, the Horde would have to deal with the will of the Scourge, the enigmatic Lich King himself. Thrall knew next to nothing about the powerful entity that dwelled in the icy shadows of Northrend, but he knew firsthand the savage hunger of the undead.

Flanked by four of his elite guard, Thrall walked at the head the column toward the Valley of Spirits. The orcs did not hide behind others of their race, and as leader, he always was at the front of any party he led. This was not simply of pride, but of loyalty. Any orc who served with him would be seen as equal. Every life of every orc was sacred to the Warchief, and he would be the one to take the first attack from any enemy. So he walked tall, followed by his Orcish entourage, toward a raised platform from where he would address his people.

The majority of Orgrimmar's Orcish population had been gathered in the valley, with the exceptions of those vendors who chose not to leave their shops. In addition, visiting Tauren and Trolls also gathered among the crowd to witness the Warchief's speech, and already, speculative whispers were circulating the crowd. Some were furtive rumors of the state of the human brought in earlier, while other were in regards to mundane aspects of daily life. When Thrall finally took his place atop the stone slab, and looked out over the multitude of orcs, all noise within the valley instantly went silent, as all heads turned toward the Leader of the Horde, and waited for him to begin.

"My brothers and sisters," shouted Thrall, his powerful voice reverberating against the canyon walls and circling the valley, "I come before you today to speak of events in the outside world. I speak of enemies which would threaten our lands, the lands which we have fought and bled for to claim."

Thrall paused and thought how best to phrase his next sentence. His people deserved know about the interloper who had come with such grave news about the world, and the role Thrall was about to ask them all to play.

"A stranger has come to us, with word of evils who would take what is ours by right. A human has come among us, and asked us for help."

At the mention of the human, a muffled cry of disbelief rose from the crowd, accompanied by grunts and howls of disapproval and anger. Some of the malice was directed at the thought that a human had come to the Orcs seeking aid. Most was directed toward the human just because he was inside the walls Orgrimmar. Thrall was not surprised at the almost overwhelming consensus toward their visitor, but he had already made a deal with the wanderer, and would not betray the trust placed upon him.

"I know that many of you are unwilling to accept this human, but the word he brings is dire. He speaks of demons, and the undead, who even now conspire to destroy the world."

"Why did he not ask his precious _human_ allies?" shouted one boisterous orc from somewhere in the crowd. "Why should we, or any of the Horde care about humans and their war?"

"Because the demons and the undead are enemies of all Azeroth!" retorted the Warchief, in one sentence silencing any other disagreement with his decision. After the assembled crowd had quieted somewhat, Thrall continued.

"The Demon-Lord, Kil'jaeden, has returned to Azeroth, and he will use whatever means necessary to conquer this world once more. Even using the former members of the Horde."

As a collective murmur of speculation rippled through the congregation, Thrall understood what the stranger had meant. Though Torgan had been right, and no Horde member would join the Burning Legion, there were other orcs throughout the world. The converted, subjugated orc members of the Burning Blade, practitioners of warlock magicks and necromantic rituals were one example. The wayward members of the shattered Dragonmaw Clan of the Eastern Kingdoms were another. And of course, the demon-worshipping Blackrock Clan, who Thrall knew was still a mighty force of orcs, blindly clinging to the forbidden demonic power. Any of these would gladly join the demon in his fight against the Lich King. Even more disturbing was Seth's talk of "as long as the Warchief lived." There were some within Orgrimmar who contested Thrall, though none opened challenged the Leader of the Horde. However, if those few had some form outside energy, Thrall knew that some of his enemies would enjoy watching him fall.

"We are not strong enough to fight against the undead and the Burning Legion. Not alone, and not even with the aid of our fierce Tauren and Troll allies are we a match for the combined strength of their evil armies."

Thrall felt no shame as he admitted this. He was a wise enough tactician to know that although the Orcs were without equal in cunning ferocity, he knew the unholy power of the adversaries he now considered engaging.

"This stranger knows much, and he has come to me with a plan. Many of you will dislike it, but I say that it is the only way that we can triumph over the demons." Thrall took a deep breath, and prepared for the storm his next phrase would bring.

"We must join forces with the humans once again. Only then will be able to save our land of Durotar."

The Warchief was not disappointed. Instantly, a cacophony of howls and roars of denial and rage rang throughout the valley. The canyon walls echoed the cries back and forth, the air pounding with the Orc's discontent.

"SILENCE!" roared Thrall, his great voice crying out over the din of his people, silencing their anger and frustration in an instant. Glaring at them all through eyes blazing with purpose and conviction, the Warchief drew himself up and looked again at his people, intending to drive home the meaning of his decision.

"Once in the past, our two races set aside our differences to combat a common foe. Together, we were able to defeat a force which had destroyed entire worlds. None here can deny the power of the humans, as the human cannot dismiss the Might of the Horde!"

At this, the shouts of anger began to give way to murmurs of approval.

"The Horde protects what is ours, and shows no mercy to those who would take what is ours!"

The murmurs gave way to cries of encouragement.

"We will stand together against the Demon-Lord, and we will show who truly is the Master of our destiny!"

The orcs began to grunt and roar louder and louder as the Warchief built them closer to the climax. All around the valley, the air began to crackle with excitement, as Orc, Tauren, and Troll stood in awe of the Warchief high upon the stone platform. As the Horde looked on in wonder, the Warchief raised his fists into the sky, his eyes blazing, and his voice bellowing out his cry…

"_VICTORY, TO THE HORDE_!"

The warcry echoed throughout the canyon walls, bouncing back and forth as the crowd started chanting in unison. The walls of Orgrimmar shook with the combined might of the orc's voices, and the air cracked with the power of their spirit and will.

"VICTORY, VICTORY, VICTORY!"

And through it all, nestled in a small chamber of Grommash Hold, a lone figure listened with his heart glowing and golden eyes shining. Then quietly, to himself, he whispered…

"Victory, to the Horde…"

_I'm getting pumped up! I hope you are enjoying this, because I am, immensely. So now we have the tentative support of the Horde. Will Thrall be able to convince them to follow Seth? Will Seth be able to make the orcs trust Him? All this and more, coming soon, so stay tuned!_


	5. Preparations and Departure

Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own WOW. I would like a date with a night elf though.

Author Note: A few things before we continue. First of all, thanks for everyone's reviews. They have inspired me to continue. That's the good news. The bad news is… I DIDN'T PLAY THE GAME ENOUGH!

Sadly, my experience is limited to the starting areas for pretty much all the races, with only several forays into the higher level areas, and those mostly for the Alliance. For reasons beyond my control, I am unable to continue first-hand research on the World of Warcraft. I will make due with the information I have, but please do not get discouraged if I take a little too long to update, or if the story starts moving to slowly. I only do this to enrich the experience of my readers. Thank you so much my adoring public!

(crickets chirping)

Oookaay. Oh that's right, I don't have much of a public yet. But for all you die hard fans that support me, you guys rock! On that note, on with the story!

Chapter 4: Preparation and Departure

_Her hair was flaxen silk, soft and shining in the dying light. It moved about her heavenly face like a halo of clouds and sunshine. Carried on the wind was a silvery laugh of the purest simple glee, full of life and pixie-like happiness. She turned toward him, with a sparkling light in her eyes, and flashed a bewitching yet innocent smile. He began to move forward, reaching out to her, wanting so much to gather her close, to feel the warmth of her soul flow through him, to energize him, to make him feel alive. She was so close he could almost touch her._

_He reached her side, and instantly, everything changed. The world grew dark, the sky split with flashes of red fire, and a great rumbling of the earth cut through the quiet scene, sending his senses reeling as if hit by a physical blow. Cries could be heard in the night sky, screams of pain and anguish, wails of fear and horror. Yet when he looked down, his heart shattered like broken glass. His love, his treasure, his reason for living lay broken and bloodied in his arms, her white-gold hair listless and dull, flecked with her own blood. Her head lolled to one side, her eyes were closed, yet her face was pained and tear-streaked. Disbelieving, he laid her back upon the ground, and saw the blood on his hands. _

_Pain came then, searing through his mind like a fiery brand. His skull seeming to split from the indescribable pain, he screamed and screamed until his voice ran hoarse. Then, just before he went unconscious, he heard a voice cutting though the agony._

_"You've freed us all."_

Seth awoke in a cold sweat, his white robes damp and slick from the horror of his nightmare. As he waited there, his heart slowing from its erratic pounding, his breath returning to his lungs, he cradled his face in his hands, struggling to regain control and composure. The dreams were not as common as they once had been, but they still came, and each time they dredged up new memories. Memories that he had locked away into a dark part of his heart.

Seth knew that the truth would become known sooner or later, but he had to be sure of his goal first. The details of his oath could wait. He only hoped the Orcs would be cooperative. Their aid was vital to his success, and to their own personal benefit. As he sat there in the uncomfortable stone chamber, body and soul awash with fear and anguish, a single tear escaped his amber eye and rolled down his cheek; A final tribute to a life long since lost and forgotten.

The dawn came quietly upon a red world, rousing the Orcs from their slumber. Though Orgrimmar bustled with activity through day and night, the dawn was still the quietest time of the day. It was at this time that the first horn was sounded, a giant hollowed-out tusk from an ancient Kodo beast. Its low, blasting sound roused the inhabitants of Orgrimmar, signaling the start of another day at work. There was no time for idleness in Durotar. Two inhabitants of the city needed no such call to wake them. Both were restless, and the night had offered little peace for either. For Seth, it had been the dreams, and his own anticipation laced with excitement. For Thrall, it was another reason entirely.

His night had been spent in preparation. Scouting parties were assembled and completed just before the break of dawn. Following the Warchief's proclamation to the city, he had set in motion two separate groups of orcs with multiple elements and several different tasks. One of these groups, composed of nearly a hundred able-bodied Orcs, would be sent out in smaller groups to gather information on demon and undead movements. Their mission was twofold; first, to verify if Sethrezin's information was in fact truthful, and second, to learn the true scope of their presence in Kalimdor. With any luck, perhaps the early stages of this new battle could be predicted and any weaknesses or vulnerabilities could be exploited. Though Thrall knew it was foolish to expect otherwise, he secretly hoped to avoid any epic confrontations.

The second group would be smaller, composed of only twenty. These twenty would be the strongest Orcs, Tauren, and Trolls within Orgrimmar, and they would carry Thrall's message to the other races of the Horde. His delegation to call for aid would carry Seth among its number, for the final destination of this entourage would be Theramore Isle, the heart of the Alliance presence in Kalimdor. Though their relations were strained, Thrall hoped that Jaina Proudmoore would see reason in the idea of an alliance with the Horde even if the Warchief was reluctant to see it himself.

These thoughts persisted as he made his way to Seth's chamber. The room was unguarded and unlocked. Thrall was quite sure that if the stranger had truly come for aid, he would not attempt to escape. If he was lying, leaving the room unsecured would seem too simple, and any intelligent assassin would not fall for such an obvious trap. Though some of his advisors thought otherwise, Thrall found it to be a suitable test for their new ally of convenience. He pushed against the sturdy wooden door of the room's only entrance, and it opened without resistance. He strode inside, his broad frame filling the majority of the portal. When his eyes became accustomed to the dim light of the chamber, he was greeted with an alarming sight. The man in white was missing, and the chamber appeared completely untouched. It looked as if Seth had simply vanished into thin air.

Instantly going on the defensive, Thrall senses sharpened. Seth was still here, even if he could not be seen. Though the chamber had been unguarded, any and all movement would have been detected and reported by the stronghold sentries, invisible eyes laid by resident troll wizards. These knew all events which transpired within the fortress, and all his advisors were in tune with them if anything suspicious occurred. The stranger could not have left this room without alerting the sentries.

Thrall felt a tickling on the back of his neck, and turned around suddenly, his hands reaching out at the air. The orc's powerful fists closed on an invisible object, which was subsequently flung across the small chamber. As Thrall's hands released the object, it materialized in midair as the figure of a human. Sure enough, it was the strange wanderer, though his reaction to the throw was surprising. A blindingly swift twist in the air righted his headlong movement, preventing him from crashing face first into the stone wall. Instead, he pushed of the wall at a ninety-degree angle, redirecting his body toward the astonished Thrall, and landed neatly in front of the larger Warchief, who threw up his hands to grasp the blurred form of Seth. Luck was with him, and he succeeded in getting hold of his attacker, then saw he was gripping both of Seth's outstretched hands. Interlocked, their hands and arms wrestled for control, and though Thrall was much broader than his attacker, Seth seemed to be having little trouble matching the Warchief's powerful muscles.

"I knew you were strong, Warchief," Seth said under his breath, though it was not especially strained. "But I must admit I am impressed by your powers of perception."

Seth looked at Thrall with a straight gaze, his amber eyes burning with challenge. However, there was no malice in them. Rather, there was a great amusement and excitement within their golden depths, as if this attack was something Seth found humorous. Uttering his own roar of challenge, Thrall channeled his chi into both his arms, causing Seth to grunt in surprise and clench his teeth in an effort to stand against the larger orc.

Suddenly, Seth moved his arms to either side, releasing his grip on Thrall's fists, disengaging the interlocking fingers. He quickly stepped back, out of Thrall's reach, conceding the match to the victor. As the white figure waited for his breath to return, the two opponents watched each other, contemplating, waiting for the next move. In the end, it was Seth who spoke first.

"You will forgive the surprise, Warchief," he stated somewhat breathlessly. "I simply wished to test a theory, and you were not exactly the one I had expected this morning. Though I must say that I am impressed. If this were any other place and time, I would ask you to consider continuing this little contest."

Thrall was torn between emotions. Surprise, outrage, curiosity and bewilderment raced through his mind, shifting so quickly that he took a step back to collect his thoughts. He was angry at being attacked by this bizarre individual, and annoyed that he had let it happen. However, he was curious at how the wanderer could match him in terms of physical power, since his size did not hint at such notable strength. And the strangest emotion of all was that in the midst of the brief confrontation, he had begun to enjoy the feel of battle, the excitement coursing through his veins at the thrill of singular combat. They spent several minutes scrutinizing each other, until at last, Thrall broke the silence.

"If I challenge you again, human," He said slowly, carefully choosing his words and tone, "The outcome will be very different than it just was." Though there was an edge to his voice, Seth could detect the faintest trace of interest in the gruff tone.

"So Warchief," Seth asked, taking on an almost conversational air, "What is the verdict? Am I to be heeded, or will I be flung out the city gates?"

"We will believe you for now Sethrezin." Thrall replied simply, "I have assembled my warriors to gather information on the demons. They will determine whether what you say is true or not. Until then, I must send out for aid to the other cities. The Tauren and trolls must be warned. As far as the humans are concerned, that will be entirely your task."

"You really don't trust me do you?"

"Of course not. You have given me no reason to."

"I don't blame you, not in the least. However, if we hope to find some end to this war, there must be some common ground."

"I trusted the humans once, and that Alliance splintered quickly."

"That was due to old hatreds. Many of the men who carried them have died away."

"And many more still live!" Thrall shouted, spitting the words ruefully. He wanted nothing more than peace among his people, and each time it seemed to come, some force in the world continued to thwart his efforts. His outburst did little to faze Seth, who continued to stare at him. Thrall saw patience, and something else in their amber depths. Could it be…understanding?

"The past is the past, Warchief. Nothing we mortals can do will alter that. To change the world, it is the present that we must focus on. I know about being hated, more than you could ever imagine."

Thrall did not understand this wanderer, though he knew there was something he was hiding, something very important. Thrall wanted to understand what it was about this man that gave him such conviction, yet let him keep his secrets so closely guarded. The Warchief in him knew that he must do what was right for his people, even if it meant allying with their old nemesis.

"The delegation is assembled, human," Thrall stated, his mind returning to business. "It will leave when you arrive, so get what you need and be on your way."

"Once again you have my thanks Warchief," replied Seth, his head bowing slightly but his eyes never leaving Thrall's. "I promise you will not regret this decision."

Thrall turned around slowly, then striding from the room with a brisk pace. He had plans to oversee, and as soon as Seth joined the party of emissaries, the delegation would depart. As he walked away, he never looked back, and as a result, he never saw the pride and gratitude shining on the wanderer's face.

Torgan was furious. No, more than furious, he was livid. His green skin was so contorted with anger that it turned a sickly olive color, and many of his comrades steered clear of him, fearful of rousing the powerful young warrior's almost legendary temper. In Orgrimmar, having Torgan as your enemy was akin to hugging a fire elemental.

"Will you please stop wearing that scowl Torgan?" Kazuk reproached. "You're scaring the children." He had been with Torgan since receiving their new mission, though the older took it a little better than his young friend. The two of them had been placed upon the delegation party to Sen'jin village, and then to Mulgore to speak with Cairne Bloodhoof. Kazuk and Torgan were sent along to safeguard the human visitor, from both the wilds of Kalimdor and from other Orcs. Though Warchief Thrall had made it clear to the citizens of Orgrimmar that Seth was not to be harmed, Kazuk knew there were some orcs that would not be so swift to let go of old hatreds.

"Or new ones, for that matter," Kazuk thought, throwing a glance in the direction of his younger partner

"How can you be so calm about this!" Torgan roared, the color of his face darkening another shade and making some passerbys shift nervously. "I am a warrior, not a babysitter! And guarding a human? By the Gods, how could the Warchief think to embarrass us this way?"

At this, Kazuk simply whipped his long spear from where it hung on his back, turned swiftly, and cut Torgan legs out from under him. The younger orc fell to the ground with a mighty crash, his frame laid out on the stone, and before he could react, Kazuk's spear was held only a breath away from his throat.

"You forget yourself, young one." Kazuk said with a quiet, low voice. "What the Warchief does is for all the Horde. Perhaps this task he has set you on will cure you of some of that arrogance you carry. You are a strong fighter, but do not let pride get in the way of purpose."

Torgan showed no fear, but his pride was severely wounded. He knew Kazuk was right. He would gladly die for the Warchief, as would any young warrior in Orgrimmar. Still, it irked him to guard the odd human. Torgan sensed there was something not altogether right about him, and surely Kazuk and the Warchief must have realized it as well. Something about the visitor made him feel uneasy, but he couldn't explain what it could be.

Kazuk removed his spear from the younger orc's neck. Holding out a hand, he offered Torgan help to his feet. Torgan simply picked himself up and continued to walk toward the assembly area. The younger orc was a bit chagrined, but seemed to have understood the brief lesson in humility. Kazuk simply sighed, and caught up with his partner. His breathing was a bit labored when he returned to the younger orcs side, another sign of his declining strength.

Raptors, wolves, and several Kodo beasts carrying supplies were gathered in the Valley of Strength, stationed away from most of the businesses, but close enough to cut down on loading time. Trolls and Orcs, mounted and on foot, milled about, tending to the beasts which would carry them out into the world. Seth looked on in wonder at the husbandry of Orgrimmar, and the fantastic beasts of burden which carried the Orcish war machine. The Wolves were glossy, massive creatures, twice again the size of any human. Seth had never seen wolves grow so large, save in the icy wilds of Northrend, and those were feral and vicious. These wolves however, though obviously possessing great strength and ferocity, looked on their keepers with genuine affection, and some whimpered and howled like giant puppies begging for some attention. The sight of it made Seth laugh with astonishment. The orcs cared for the great wolves as a human might care for a favored pet.

The raptors were another story. Mottled brown, green and red scales covered every surface. Their reptilian eyes watched every movement with an uncanny alertness. Every now and then one would sniff the air, and utter a little screech of impatience to their troll handlers, as if their meals could not be given quickly enough. The eyes of the raptors were alight with a startling intelligence, carefully calculating each and every tiny movement of the world around them. These were no simple beasts of burden. These majestic animals were visibly aware of what was happening. Seth viewed them with a sense of awe, but preferred to keep a safe distance.

Tauren and Troll intermingled freely with the Orcs, discussing this and that, mainly focused on the impending departure. Still, there was talk of harvest, of the whether, and of families. Family loyalty seemed to be very important within the Horde, and an object of intense pride. It made Seth feel yet more compassion toward the society he had stumbled upon.

As Seth walked through the bustling area, most of the conversation went silent, as each individual watched the newcomer for any sign of treachery. Even here, his presence was viewed with distrust. Once again, Seth was not surprised, but he was starting to grow tired of the constant glances. It was as if any second they expected him to burst into flames and start wreaking havoc through the streets. The image conjured in his head made him chuckle a bit, but there was a pained expression on his face.

He continued wandering through the area, until he walked into what felt like a brick wall. He attempted to step back, only to trip over a loose raptor saddle left lying on the ground. Recovering, he pivoted on his feet, using momentum to do a back flip and land lightly in a kneeling position. All around him, all conversation stopped. Cursing lightly, he stood up and tried to regain his composure. His little acrobatic display would likely create some stir among the populace. Facing forward once again, he got his first look at the "wall" he had walked into. His gaze traveled up…and up, and up, finally lighting upon the massive face and muzzle of a giant. The equine face and body, coupled with the twelve-foot burly frame, told Seth he had run into a Tauren. Seth scrambled to his feet, and bowed to the enormous being.

"I apologize friend. I wasn't watching where I was going. I hope you will forgive me."

"It is rare to see a human in these lands," the Tauren replied, his deep voice filled with patience and what almost seemed like compassion. "In fact, it is the first time I have _ever_ seen one in Durotar. You are either very brave or very foolish." The Tauren's face split in a wide grin, which was an amazing feat considering his already massive size.

"Still, if you came here by your own accord, as the young Warchief says," he said good-naturedly, "then that question remains to be proven doesn't it?" All through the short exchange, the Tauren's face never lost its smile, or the kind understanding in the large, dark eyes. Seth couldn't keep himself from smiling back. It was nice to find someone in this land who didn't treat him like the enemy.

"I think you will find I am a little bit of both, with maybe a dash of desperation for flavor."

"That is usually the way it is in life, and in more ways than one, stranger."

Seth had just met this mighty being, and he already knew he was going to like him. His calm and easy acceptance of Seth's presence meant more to the human than any victory he had claimed.

"We are about to leave, and if you don't mind, I would like to speak with you a bit more." stated the Tauren, surprising Seth once again. "You have quite a story to tell I am sure, and I would be pleased to understand fully the reason a human has come to the lands of the Horde." As he lumbered away, Seth launched into a brisk pace, and hastened to catch up with the Tauren's mighty strides. As they walked, Seth learned more about his large new friend.

His name was Malvon Windstrider, a Tauren shaman visiting from the capital city in Mulgore. He had come to Orgrimmar about two months ago as a teacher, to educate the younger orcs who showed mystic talent. Malvon had seen forty-six winters, and thirty of those had been spent in tune with the spirits of the world. Before that time, Malvon had trained as a hunter, and from what was whispered among the few orcs who listened, had made a name for himself in the plains of Mulgore. A deeply spiritual individual, he looked at the world through eyes filled with kindness and patience, and was very slow to anger indeed. However, his mystical strength was not to be taken lightly, though his gigantic twelve-foot frame did more than enough to dissuade most who sought to trouble him.

Seth found himself liking Malvon more and more as time went on, and when the great Tauren offered a seat on the huge Kodo beast he rode, Seth was more than happy to accept. In return, Seth told Malvon of the reason for his visit, and the great danger that was soon to come. He avoided speaking about himself, and Malvon, showing respect, let the matter drop.

"So, the demons have come back?"

"Yes, and the Lich King is dormant, but it is only a matter of time."

"I fought the demons myself four years ago, as well as the undead." Malvon's voice took on a touch of sadness. "I had hoped that my days of fighting were over, and I could teach the children to live in a peaceful world."

"Like you said, that is the way the world usually is."

"You are a strange man, Sethrezin, even for a human, to try and change the world on your own."

Seth smiled at the shaman, and replied, "No one person can change the world, Windstrider. He can only help those who think as he does, and perhaps, together, something good will come of it."

Malvon looked at his passenger once more, and smiled back.

Two orcs rode up alongside the Kodo beast. One was a stride a pitch black wolf with yellow eyes, the other on a gray strider with a loping gait. Seth recognized them both as Torgan and Kazuk, the orcs who had first escorted him to the Warchief.

"We are ready, Sethrezin," stated Kazuk, his eyes widening slightly at the Tauren and human riding together. "if you have finished your own preparations, we would like to be on our way." Though the old orc's voice was gruff, there was patience in it. Kazuk was trying his best to be diplomatic, and Seth thanked him for it.

"I am prepared, Kazuk. We can leave anytime."

"Kazuk and I will be watching you Sethrezin," Torgan growled just loud enough to reach Seth's ears. "Do not forget that."

Seth simply smiled at the big orc, and nodded his head in acquiescence. The young fighter had a chip on his shoulder, but there was little Seth could currently do about it. Turning toward his new friend atop the Kodo saddle, he settled back against the leather webbing, and prepared to be on his way. Malvon, glancing behind to ensure his passenger was secured, howled to the great lizard, and with a slow, thundering stomp, the great beast began to slowly inch forward, picking up speed as the convoy began to move .

The gates of Orgrimmar opened wide, and the raptors, wolves and Kodo lizards moved in a slow procession through the stone portal. Seth heart leapt to his throat, and his golden eyes gazed once more into the red sun of Durotar.

His Day of Destiny was finally at hand.

_Whoa, sorry about the long update time. I just couldn't figure out where to go after the last chapter. Anyway, inspiration has returned and now all I have to deal with is procrastination. I have a lot of good material and I will try to get it to you ASAP. Once again, thanks for your reviews, and for taking the time to visit my fantasy. (That doesn't sound to weird does it?) Anyway, this was pretty long, but it sounds cool to me. _

_Enjoy! And keep those reviews coming! J_


	6. Skirmish

Disclaimer: I do not own WOW. (Teacakes!)

**Chapter 5: Skirmish**

The delegation from Orgrimmar departed the city in the mid-morning hours, and were quickly exposed to the sun's unforgiving rays. The speed of the convoy was slow going with the lumbering Kodos, yet the great beasts had long since adapted to the sweltering heat. The same could not be said for several of the group's canine members, who beneath their thick fur coats were visibly distressed from the heat. For this reason, the pace was hastened forward until the caravan had reached the relative shade of the Drygulch Ravine, a long, winding canyon which ran the length of northern Durotar. Within the overhanging stone cliffs, the convoy speed increased somewhat, unfettered by the elements present on the open plain. From his place behind Malvon, within the shaded pagoda atop the Kodo beast, Seth took a few moments to analyze the new company he kept.

The delegation was twenty in number. Of those twenty, eleven were orcs, mostly hunters and shaman, though there were two others who looked much like warriors, similar to Torgan and Kazuk. While most of the other orcs treated him with a kind of uneasy neglect, he had caught several seething glances cast in his direction. Joining the orcs were six trolls, each riding one of the majestic raptors. They were all very tall, the shortest one at least six and a half feet. Their skin pigmentation varied from a twilight blue to a striking violet. When they spoke to each other, which was not often, it was in their guttural native language, and it carried with it the exotic accent of the southern islands. Seth could only begin to speculate what they were discussing, but considering the Trolls frequent glances at in the direction of Malvon's Kodo, as well as their chronic habit of fingering the short blades at their waists and thighs, he could guess what most of the conversation was covering. Seth was aware that the Trolls hated the humans even more than the Orcs. Though the Darkspear tribe, (whose history Seth had learned from Malvon) had been exiled from the larger troll empire in the Eastern Kingdoms, apparently some racial hatred carried through the centuries.

The two other members of the convoy were the Tauren, which included Malvon and another warrior, an even more massive bull named Braun. At least fourteen feet in height, and his entire face several different colors from old scars, Braun was truly an imposing individual. However, like Malvon, Braun was very patient, though he was understandably a bit gruffer in his conversations, which normally consisted of a single word, or an imperceptible nod of his gigantic head. Sporting a pair of impressive curving horns, they were surprisingly intact in contrast to his scarred visage. Long, white and smooth, they almost looked polished, as though the warrior took great pride in their appearance. Seth could only guess as to the significance of this, but out of propriety, decided not to ask

The final member of this band was of course Seth himself, and he literally found himself the odd _man_ out. His white tunic and cape was once again wrapped around his entire form, all but his eyes obscured from view. He had drawn the cape closer about him to prevent it from flailing out in the wind, and the white flag of peace which had adorned his staff had been removed and placed within the containers secured to the Kodo beast. That same staff, six feet in length, lay beside him atop the Kodo's back. Seth sat calmly, but was alert, his eyes scanning the horizon. He did not expect any difficulties in reaching Sen'jin, but then again, Durotar was a dangerous land.

"Troubled thoughts, my human friend?" asked Malvon, his deep yet quiet voice breaking Seth out of his area analysis. He turned to see Malvon with his head facing to the west, eyeing him with a slightly bemused expression.

"No, just getting the lay of the land."

"What do you think of this place the Orc's call home?" It was a simple question, but Seth knew Malvon expected more than a simple answer.

"It is dry, dusty, and seemingly barren. The sun is hot, and the land is harsh. Few things will grow without very hard work, and even then, life is hard, for one must fight against the earth just survive. Dangerous things roam freely throughout this land, fighting for supremacy over what seems to be a lost cause." Seth paused in his analysis, and waited for some response from Malvon. When none came, Seth smiled.

"I think it is one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited."

"As do I, Sethrezin. As do I."

Malvon continued to face forward, directing the Kodo, his visage hidden from Seth's view. However, Seth was convinced a grin spanned the length of the shaman's face. Few could see the beauty in such a place as this, and fewer still would understand why a race would choose such an unforgiving place to live. This was a place where the world was still wild, untamed, and filled with adventure. It was perfectly suited to its current inhabitants, a society built upon honor and pride. Malvon knew this, and in some way, because Seth had recognized it, it had made him realize something special about his new friend.

So they continued on, the majority of the journey passing in silence, yet carrying a quiet understanding between the two very different beings.

Though the pace of the Kodos could hardly be called swift, the delegation reached the settlement of Razor Hill several hours before twilight. It displayed the same architecture as the capital city, but there were only two large buildings, surrounded by a number of huts and lean-tos. At either entrance was a watchtower, and a smaller, garrisoned structure near the tower's base. Seemingly more of a military installation than a town, orcs and trolls frequented the central square of the settlement. Yelling and shouting came from what seemed like all directions, while other inhabitants, mostly from the towers and burrows barked orders to their subordinates. Seth's head spun from all the activity. It had not been this busy before!

Kazuk led the convoy toward the outer edge of Razor Hill, where the pack animals were tethered to the city's inner wall. The four Kodos remained outside the city gates, their size too much to be held within the modest settlement. Most of the wolves and raptors remained as well, guarded over by a steely-eyed Orc warrior named Naz'Gresh. The orcs and trolls of the group climbed of their mounts and moved about the city, some heading to the domed hall along the eastern wall of the city, and the rest milling about the square. Along the western side of the city, a large, jagged hole cut into the wall, seeming blown apart by some powerful explosive. A fair number of Orcs, Tauren, and Trolls all scrambled about near the crumbling palisade, fervently repairing the extensive damage.

Seth himself grabbed his staff, climbed down along the Kodo's massive spine, and stretched his legs when he reached the ground. Seth saw Kazuk run of toward the burrow at the southern entrance to the town, where he began conversing with another orc at the top. Malvon joined Seth next to the Kodo, his large frame creating a block from the dimming sun.

"Should we investigate ourselves?" Seth asked the Tauren shaman.

"We could, but I wonder what aid we could offer?"

"Something has the town stirred up, and I don't think it's us."

Malvon glanced down at Seth, and regarded him for a moment. Several seconds later, he replied.

"You can hide your face all you like, but by now, I am sure everyone in this town knows what you are."

"I cannot hide what I am, and I will not try to. How can I win trust from the Horde if I will not walk amongst them?

"I don't disagree with you, but still, be on your guard my young friend."

Without waiting for further prompting from his Tauren escort, Seth began to walk in the direction of the southern burrow. He had a feeling Kazuk would tell the rest of the party any information he had gathered, but Seth thought it better to know firsthand the reason for Razor Hill's increased martial alertness.

As Seth walked across the central courtyard, many of the inhabitants stopped dead in their tracks. He had removed the white cloth wrapping from his face and head, his silver hair tumbling past his shoulders. Seth did not lower his head, but met the stares and glares with open eyes. Though he could feel their hostility like an almost tangible thing, none made a move toward him. Perhaps it was order of the Warchief that held them at bay, but Seth thought it likely his imposing friend was the real reason he was left alone.

When he reached the burrow, Malvon remained outside, while Seth climbed up the steps to the watchpoint, where Kazuk and the other orc were carrying on a discussion which was quickly becoming heated. This orc was not as burly as the others Seth had seen. Instead, he had a lean, wiry frame, and quick darting eyes which were constantly moving, alert and seemingly on edge. He was bald, save for a long pony-tail composed of course, pitch-black hair which grew from the crown of his skull.Though not as physically imposing as Kazuk, this orc carried himself with a kind of repressed fury. He seemed to move like an arc of lightning, evidenced by his expressive hand and arm movements. A long, thin, curved blade slung across the orc's back stated what he was. This was one of the Orcish Blademasters, the legendary warriors who were said to fight like demons. Currently, Kazuk seemed to be getting more agitated with the newcomer, and the conversation was rapidly gaining volume and intensity.

"You mean to tell me," Kazuk growled in a clearly irritated tone, "that the road to Sen'jin has been closed because of a simple Centaur attack?"

"Simple isn't the word for it!" bellowed the Blademaster, his own voice a mid-range bark, fueled by annoyance at Kazuk's continued pushing. "Last night the Centaur attacked from the shadows and blew out the west wall! We spent most of today just putting the stone back in place."

"Centaur don't use explosives." stated Kazuk, some civility returning to his tone.

"That hole wasn't caused by an explosive! They weren't normal Centaur!" The Blademaster's voice now took on a tone of desperation, fueled by what seemed like confusion, and something resembling fear.

"What exactly does a 'normal' Centaur look like then?" asked the old orc, a trace of sarcasm leaking into his tone. Disregarding the condescending remark, the Blademaster continued.

"The ones that attacked last night were unusually ferocious. They just kept coming against the walls, through the front lines. Arrows, axes, spears, everything was leaving marks, but it was taking truly mortal wounds to even slow them down." Here the Blademaster paused, catching sight of Seth for the first time. His attitude instantly changed from annoyed irritation to full-blown rage.

"Human!" cried the enraged orc, his howl carrying through the air like an alarm. "How dare you come to our land! I'LL KILL YOU!

Seth turned his eyes sadly toward the angry orc. The blademaster's three-foot blade flashed out of the sheath at his back, and he leapt toward the defenseless human. Alarmed, Kazuk hurried to reach his spear and ward off the Blademaster. He could not let his charge die so soon! As he watched, he knew he would never be able to intercept the furious swordfighter's attack in time.

Then something truly amazing happened. As the fighter's gleaming sword chopped brutally downward in a glittering arc, Seth stood calmly with the same sad, tired expression on his face. Then, in what seemed the blink of an eye, a ringing sound cut through the air. The Blademaster's sword was parried by the wanderer's wooden staff! Seth held the staff at either end, with the orc's sword embedded ever so slightly in the wood between the human's arms. The blademaster's face was a study in hatred, while Seth was as calm as still water.

Shifting his stance, the human rotated his arms in one swift motion, wrenching the sword from the orc's hands. Following up this attack, Seth pivoted on his right foot, sweeping the staff in a horizontal strike, cutting his opponents legs out from under him. The Blademaster fell to the wooden floor with a heavy thud, and was scrambling to his feet when he felt a hard pressure on his chest. It was the white figure, standing over him, one sandaled foot braced upon his torso, the staff held inches away from his throat.

For several minutes there was only silence. Even the wind seemed to have stopped wailing over the burrow. Kazuk stood nearby, watching with awe and fascination at what he had just witnessed. Seth gazed down at his opponent, his face devoid of any emotion. His opponent lay upon the floor, staring up at him with a mix of outrage, shame, and amazement in his eyes. Even the other orcs within the burrow had gone silent, teetering between assaulting the human themselves or waiting for the Blademaster's response. After what seemed like an eternity, the prostrate fighter looked into his adversary's golden eyes, and spoke.

"I am defeated, human. Take your victory."

"What victory?" Seth replied, removing his staff from the orc's throat and his foot from his opponent"s torso. "I simply defended myself. I have no reason to kill you."

"This was a battle and I lost!" shouted the fighter, his black eyes flashing. "I cannot live with the shame!"

Seth gazed once more at the Blademaster. He was a young orc, not much older than Torgan. His face did not carry as many scars, but he moved like an experienced fighter. Seth could sense in him a great deal of the same Orcish pride he had come to expect since experiencing it firsthand from the society.

"You can live with one loss, though this was hardly a battle. A true fighter knows his limits, and works daily to break them." He offered his hand to the prone orc. The orc did not accept, rising slowly to his feet, and walking away to retrieve his lost weapon.

"What is your name, good orc?" Seth smiled slightly as he asked, and was not disappointed. The blademaster turned, scowling at the human, and did not respond for several moments, as if contemplating whether to give even that to the _human_ that had bested him.

"Shokan," he replied, and then walked back over to Kazuk, presumably to continue their earlier conversation. Kazuk chose not to mention the minor altercation, as he knew the matter at hand was passage to Sen'jin. The Blademaster, Shokan, kept tossing glances toward the human in the corner, waiting for the slightest movement.

"What else did you see about these centaur, and why close the road because of them?"

"They didn't look any different at least. We all thought they would be easily dealt with. It wasn't until we started pushing them back that something seemed to change. It was almost as if they went berserk all at once."

"Berserk?" asked Kazuk, not quite disbelieving, but not all convinced. The centaur were viscious, he knew that much, but they seldom attacked a settlement like Razor Hill without some greater leadership. Even then, he had never known the centaur to be particularly bloodthirsty, just aggressively territorial.

"Like I said," continued Shokan, "Nothing seemed to stop them. They just wouldn't stay down. When they reached the wall, one of them just touched it, and he exploded. The body just blew apart. After that, they reatreated. No increased attack, no retaliation, they just dissapeared." Shokan's voice faltered here, as if he were frightened to admit something.

"Go on," prompted Kazuk, knowing there was more to the young fighter's story.

"Their eyes they…they were glowing."

Kazuk's breath caught in his throat, and in the corner, unnoticed by either orc, Seth's eyes sharpened with interest.

"Glowing?" Kazuk cautiously asked. "How?"

"They're eyes were glowing red."

"Where did these Centaurs come from?" shouted Seth, breaking into the conversation, his voice filled with apprehension, and to Kazuk's ears, what almost sounded like anger. From his short time with the strange human, Kazuk had yet to see him show that much feeling. Shokan, seemingly at a loss whether to answer the question or not, glanced in the older orc's direction. Kazuk, with a nod, told the young fighter to continue.

"They come from the Southwest, just to the North of the Valley of Trials."

Without another word, Seth bolted down the stairs, Kazuk yelling after him. In his mind, Kazuk knew very well what had attacked last night, yet he hoped against hope it was not true. He also hoped that whatever vendetta Sethrezin carried, it would not jeopardize their purpose. Turning back to Shokan, he issued terse orders.

"Gather what warriors you can spare. We will take our revenge tonight."

Kazuk was a wise tactician, and he knew that going up against an unknown enemy was more than dangerous. It was suicide. That was the sensible side of him talking. However, there was another part of him, the savage warrior's soul, which quickened his blood with the idea of a fight. Soon he would feel the ebb and flow of battle, the grand screaming of his blood in his ears, and the frenzied excitement of combat.

Kazuk was going to war.

Seth raced past the huge form of Malvon, whose face lit with surprise as the human sped past him.

"Sethrezin, wait!" he called to the shrinking form of his passenger.

Seth did not turn back, and continued to run in the direction of the setting sun. With inhuman speed, he covered the distance of the town in mere seconds, running out through the gaping hole in the western wall. Malvon looked after the human with a confused look on his equine face. Even mounted, Malvon doubted he would be able to keep up with the unusual man rapidly disappearing into the twilight. Behind him, he heard a bustling sound, as Kazuk ran down the stairs after him, followed closely by a young Blademaster's and a furious Torgan.

"Treacherous human!" Torgan bellowed out to the shadows, as they swallowed what remained of Seth. "I knew you had lied to us!"

Malvon looked toward Torgan with a look of bewilderment. Lied? What would Seth have to lie about? He had spoken of his mission to Malvon during the journey to Razor Hill, and Malvon had not doubted the sincerity in the wanderer's voice.

"What's going on?" asked Malvon eager to understand this rapidly developing mystery.

The Blademaster stepped forward, his namesake clutched in his right hand, his eyes blazing with excitement and anger. However, in their depths there was also the slightest trace of fear, as if something had just shaken him to the core.

"We were attacked last night by centaurs," he said slowly, judging each words and phrase. "Somehow, they were able to destroy the west wall, and they were more ferocious than I have ever seen." Here he paused for a moment, and then said what he had feared to believe, just revealed to him by the older orc at his side.

"Kazuk believes they could have been under demonic influence. That would explain their increased strength during the attack."

"And now that idiot has run out on his own!" exclaimed Torgan, his wrath and fury turning his skin once again that sickly olive green. "Probably now to tell the demons about the Horde! He saw the inside of Orgrimmar!"

"Silence, Torgan. Calm yourself!" shouted Kazuk, his patented glare fixed once more upon the furious warrior. "He has shown no treachery, and you will stop thinking that he will! It was foolish to go out by himself, but we will discuss that later." Kazuk was growing increasingly tired of Torgan's constant bitterness about Sethrezin's prescense. The mere mention of the human's name seemed to enrage him.

"Now we will have to rescue the brazen fool no doubt," Torgan grumbled, cowed by Kazuk's reproach, but still infuriated by Seth's wild flight into Durotar's hills. Malvon chose this moment to interject.

"The Warchief said the human would help us. He said the human was not our enemy. Is this not true?"

"The human does not seem to be our enemy..." started Kazuk.

"But he is not our ally!" Torgan interrupted. He would never call the human a friend, or even an ally.

"Why not simply let the Centaur deal with him?" Shokan offered, though the words rang hollow in his heart. No warrior, even someone as unusual as Seth, could have bested Shokan so easily. While a part of him despised the human for insulting his honor, another side hoped he still lived. Shokan could not believe himself, but he almost felt...impressed by the wanderer's skill.

"No, the Centaur will not kill the stranger," replied Torgan, the words issuing between clenched teeth, but they came through clearly. "The Warchief ordered us to protect him, and so I will." Though it left a particularly foul taste in Torgan's mouth.

Shokan and Torgan hurried to prepare the mounts to journey into the hills. Pursuing Sethrezin on foot would take too long, and by his speed, Torgan knew it would be impossible to catch up. The wolves on the other hand would have no trouble catching the foolish human before he reached the centaur canyons.

Malvon and Kazuk stood side by side, looking out to the rocky horizon where Seth had now all but dissapeared. Kazuk wore an expression of annoyasnce upon his battle-scarred personage, while Malvon's carried a sincere look of concern.

"Do you think he has a chance, old warrior?" asked Malvon, his dark eyes gazing down at the scarred veteran."

Kazuk said nothing for several seconds, contemplating what he was about to say. He had learned more about his charge in the last several hours. He had been bathing in the heat of warfare for over forty years, and had seen many strong and powerful beings in that time. Finally, he turned and looked back up at the Tauren, and answered.

"I don't think we will need to save him from the Centaur, great shaman. I think it is they who will need salvation...from him."

With those words, both turned back to face the night, and gazed long and hard into the deepening shadows.

_A few quick corrections and obervations:_

_1. Yes I know the Kolkar Crag is South of the Valley of Trials. Five words: Rogue groups and enemy translocation._

_2. This chapter kind of materialized out of several ideas to connect to the next chapter. I really didn't think I would make Razor Hill into a part of the story._

_3. In regards to item #2, one more new character will be introduced in the next chapter. (well, two actually, but its a secret!)_

_Once again, thanks for the reviews and your patience. It took me a little while to finally decide which direction I wanted to take the next step. The good news is, I have plenty of material for a quick update for the next chapter. ACTION ALERT! Big battle scene coming up! For all you action fans out there, this next one you don't want to miss! Stay tuned, and get ready for some turbulence! _

_P.S.-Big Kudoes (Not Kodos) go out to everyone who has written me a review. I love you guys!_


	7. Rescue

Disclaimer: WOW does not belong to me. How many different ways can I say this?

_Author's Note: Really sorry about the long update time, but that's the job. Besides, my computer was giving me problems and I lost the data, and it took me a while to rewrite the story. I also need to up the rating on this chapter. This one has the violence of a story about one of the Manson family._

Chapter 6: Rescue

Nights in Durotar are literally as different as hot and cold. While during the day, the heat mercilessly cooks the land. However, when the sun goes down the temperature drops dramatically. The hot gusts of the daylight hours become chilling winds moving through the shadows. Canyons and ravines which catch these winds send baleful howls echoing through the night, as if the earth itself would seek to drive away intruders. Yet most importantly, in Durotar, the truly dangerous things only come out at night.

Torgan and Kazuk once again rode their wolf mounts, while Shokan the Blademaster refused climb astride one of the animals. On foot, the swordfighter was indeed swift, his pace staying in stride with the loping gait of the massive wolves. Joining the three orcs was Malvon and Braun, both astride one of the Kodo beasts. Unlike the relaxed pace of the convoy to Razor Hill, the two Tauren urged the Kodo into a galloping stride, and the huge lizard moved with a speed which belied its enormous size. Malvon was busy atop the lizard, feverishly working to control the Kodo's increased speed. Braun however, seemed to be enjoying himself. His multi-hued face was broken into a giant, almost frightful grin, excitement coursing through the Tauren warrior with each mighty boom as the Kodo's legs pounded the earth.

The moon was full, but hidden behind the dust clouds from the winds as well as those higher in the sky. The result was a very dim gray light which did little to illuminate the path. The sun had fully gone down by the time the small party left Razor Hill in pursuit of the wayward human Sethrezin. Sputtering torches mounted atop wooden poles were attached to the pagoda atop the Kodo, while Torgan carried another in his left hand. Riding point, he scanned the area ahead, searching for any sign of the white wanderer.

"Even if we find him," he yelled to Kazuk, "do you really think he'll still be alive? The Centaur don't show any mercy to strangers."

Kazuk did not answer, keeping his eyes firmly on the road ahead.

"No human can take on a tribe of Centaur alone," Torgan continued, slightly annoyed by the old warrior's indifference. "He had no weapons except for that piece of wood, and no armor at all. He is probably already dead!"

"He was not unarmed, Torgan," Shokan interrupted, his stride never slowing while he spoke. "Don't be so quick to laugh at that 'piece of wood' as you call it." Shokan briefly remembered his momentary confrontation with the wanderer, and the speed and skill with which he had been bested. The Blademaster had the impression that there was more to the seemingly defenseless human than he let on. Part of him still wondered how a wooden staff could stop his sharpened blade.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of the human." said Torgan, a minor edge of amusement and playful sarcasm in his voice.

"I fear no human!" retorted Shokan. "I just think you should show that one a bit more respect." To this, Torgan only responded with a growl.

"Or maybe," the Blademaster continued, in a sly, teasing tone "you are just annoyed at having to play nursemaid."

Torgan turned back to the running orc, reining in his wolf, his eyes blazing with rage.

"No one, not even another Orc, calls Torgan a nursemaid!" Torgan's torch in his left hand began to sputter as a gust of wind caught the fire. Even the golden-eyed wolf mount was distressed by his Master's anger. Shokan slowed to a halt, the playful light in his eyes rapidly darkening to a gleam of challenge. The Kodo beast slowed as well, its bounding stride reduced to watch the deteriorating situation. Malvon watched the two orcs with a tired expression, while Braun began to chuckle dismissively.

Suddenly, Torgan head lowered slightly, his hand releasing the torch as a swift exhalation of wind escaped the orc's lungs. Kazuk then rode up, annoyed and glowering balefully at the two younger orcs. His spear was gripped in his right hand, and held not far from Torgan's head.

"I am growing tired of both of you!" shouted the old warrior. "We have a mission to accomplish. If you two continue to argue like wolf cubs I'll have the Kodo _drag _you all the way back to the Orgrimmar!"

"He started it," Torgan and Shokan said simultaneously, pointing at each other.

Kazuk simply shook his head while uttering a pained groan, and urged his wolf to pick up the pace. It was unlikely they would catch Sethrezin before he reached the Centaur canyons. However, they could do nothing but press on. He only hoped his young companions did not kill themselves in the process.

Shokan picked up the torch Torgan had dropped, and tossed it back to the mounted orc, who caught it cleanly in his left hand. For several seconds they looked at each other, then resumed their pace, hastening to catch up with Kazuk. From their place in the Pagoda, the two Tauren watched the scene with amusement. Malvon turned to the large warrior, and spoke.

"What do you think our chances are?" he asked, smiling at his friend. Never one much for conversation, Braun answered in his typical fashion.

"Humph!"

"Yeah, that's what I thought too." Prompting the Kodo to resume its pace, Malvon stomped on the lizard's leathery hide. With a mighty booming howl, the Kodo lurched forward, bringing from Braun another bout of maniacally excited laughter.

OOOOO

The crags where the Centaur made their home were not difficult to spot. A winding canyon of red rock where the stone cliffs rose up to form an overhanging canopy of stone. This canopy would likely be quite useful during the day, where it would block the rays of the sun. However, at night, the dim light of the moon did even less to illuminate the darkness, and the rock only seemed to make the shadows press in even closer.

Kazuk kept a tight grip on his spear, and a keen eye on the road ahead of him. The obsidian head of the weapon glinted in the torchlight, sending streams of light lancing into the shadows. To his left, Torgan held the torch high, scanning for any sign of his wayward charge. Shokan loped along on foot, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his katana. Even the wolves were alert, sniffing the air as their riders urged them carefully forward. The crag was oddly silent, the wind blowing softly now, no longer crying its haunting song. It was as if the entire area was taken an unending breath.

A yowl from behind made Shokan and Torgan turn swiftly, gazing back in the direction of the Kodo. The cliffs had been pressing closer, the entrance to the canyon now a narrow passageway of stone. While the wolves and orcs could pass through with no difficulty, the huge reptile could not enter the canyon through this small opening.

Malvon said nothing, and was grateful none of the orcs had either. A Kodo's howl was common enough in these parts, while sentient voices would be investigated. He had half expected Torgan or Shokan to reproach his mistake, though for once, the young orcs wisely held their tongues. Malvon could not continue on, but he was loath to leave the Kodo behind. A group of centaur would make short work of the docile beast.

Kazuk and Torgan reined in their wolves, moving back in the direction of the two Tauren. Torgan passed his torch to the Blademaster, telling him to scout the path just ahead. Kazuk was the first to reach the great lizard, and he called up to the mounted Tauren, keeping his voice low enough so their conversation would not carry.

"Well, now what? You can't get any further on the beast."

"I know. I would like to search for another way into the canyon."

"That will take too long, and by the time you find a suitable entrance, we will have gone." Kazuk did not want to lose sight of another member of the delegation so quickly, and he was reluctant to leave one of his comrades alone in the dark, even one as formidable as the shaman. Braun would stay if asked, but Kazuk had a feeling he would need the warrior's strength to find Seth.

"I will meet up with you," Malvon assured the old warrior. "An open spot will be found along the northern wall. I can enter through there."

"How do you know?"

Kazuk's only answer from the shaman was a bewildered stare.

"Oh, right," replied Kazuk, shaking his head in surrender. He never really did understand mystics.

Braun jumped down from the back of the Kodo, slamming into the ground with a mighty crash. Kazuk winced at the sound of the huge Tauren hitting the stone, then relaxed slightly when nothing seemed to stir in the canyon. Clutched in both hands, the warrior carried a huge double-headed war hammer, which was nearly as long as Kazuk was tall. The hammer head glinted in the torchlight, the metal bludgeon easily the size of the Tauren's head. Kazuk knew the strength of the Tauren warrior first-hand, but still chuckled a bit whenever he saw the almost ridiculously huge weapon.

"Kazuk!" shouted Shokan, "Something's here." The swordfighter kept his voice quiet enough not to carry, but still catching Kazuk's attention. With Torgan leading the way, the two orcs hastened to join the scout. Malvon urged the Kodo to shift, backing slowly out of the narrow passage, assuring to retreating orcs he would return.

The canyon walls opened into a large clearing a bit smaller than Razor Hill. Animal bones lined the walls, jumbled together in crudely constructed huts and shacks, covered by tightly stretched skins. Great piles of coal and ash spoke of revel fires long since extinguished, while footprints of cloven hoofs in the ash revealed the areas inhabitants. Wafting through the canyon was a pungent odor of rotting flesh and stale wind, strong enough to make even the orc's eyes water. This was nothing new to Kazuk, for he had assaulted many Centaur camps during his time in Kalimdor. However, as the light from the torch further illuminated the scene, it became apparent to the old warrior that something was very wrong.

The valley was a scene of absolute carnage. Centaur littered the area, or what was left of them. Corpses were strewn about seemingly at random, the equine forms casting strange shadows on the ground from the fire's light. Grotesquely mutilated, many were sliced in half, while others were missing limbs. The sand was dyed black from puddles of blood, while great streaks of red drew checkered patterns on the desert soil. Many of the centaur were armed, though those weapons were flung away from the bodies, several still clutched in dismembered hands.

"The human couldn't have done this!" Torgan exclaimed, his tone slightly shaken at the macabre scene. Shokan silently stared at the bloodshed, feeling no sympathy for the centaur, only fascination at the power inherent in what he witnessed. He shared Torgan's disbelief in thinking a human could be capable of such skill, but unlike the younger orc, the Blademaster had fought the stranger, brief as it had been. Shokan did not know of anyone, or anything else that would have a reason to kill so many of the equine monstrosities.

"These wounds were made with a sword." Kazuk muttered. "Sethrezin carried only that staff. Somehow I doubt these beasts were cut to ribbons with a 'piece of wood'." The last part was added with some sarcasm, teasing Torgan's earlier comment. The young fighter did not overhear.

"A massacre" muttered Braun, the warrior's voice drawing glances from the younger orcs. He had voiced what they had thought, and hearing something other than a grunt from the mighty Tauren was unusual.

"Search the area. Find Sethrezin!" Kazuk growled, his voice also carrying no sympathy and little compassion. The horsemen had too long been an enemy to allow for sentimentality.

Shokan gave another shout, and Torgan and Kazuk dismounted from the wolves to investigate. In a pile of Centaur corpses, Shokan saw something that looked familiar. A piece of wood, almost a foot long, lay in the center of the circle of flesh. It was covered in blood, one end cut in a jagged slash, splinters of wood clinging to the severed side.

This was part of Sethrezin's staff.

Reaching down, the Blademaster hefted the small fragment. Upon closer inspection, Shokan saw that the jagged end was hollow, with a shallow groove on the inner part of the wood. The staff had appeared solid, but now Shokan had the impression it was something more. It was one more mystery added to the growing suspicion surrounding their new ally.

As Kazuk and Torgan dismounted from their wolves, the animals began sniffing at the night air. Wintersbreath, the gray wolf, whimpered to her master, who nuzzled the graceful creature's neck to sooth her. Staring into the shadows with eyes alert, something caught her eyes as the light brushed over the darkness. Kazuk, sensing the wolf's distress, turned his own gaze to the edge of the torchlight. Torgan hefted his axe, while Shokan dropped the wood fragment back into the circle of corpses. Braun slung the war hammer over his shoulder, in a position where the hammer could be easily swung down if the need arose.

Then it happened.

A whistling sound cut through the shadows, cutting the air as the shaft flew straight at the small party. In the space of a breath, Shokan's katana flashed out, too fast for Torgan's eye to follow. Two shards of wood fell to the ground at Torgan's feet, one tipped with a jagged triangle of stone.

Wasting no time, Torgan dove to the ground, tossing away the torch, searching for some form of cover. Centaurs were filthy beasts, but their archers were not to be underestimated. The four would-be rescuers had to find cover from the bows before they were turned into pincushions. The two wolves took off into the shadows, hidden from sight, safe from the deadly rain.

"Scatter!" came Kazuk's voice. The clipped order acted like a trigger, and the three orcs and the Tauren launched themselves in all four directions, each seeking his own cover. Torgan and Shokan, who were the closest together, crouched behind the fallen bodies of the centaur, listening as arrow shafts thudded into the wall of flesh. Though the stench was repugnant, the two warriors could not move from their location, pinned down as they were by the centaur archers.

Braun did not move fast enough from the ambush point, and as the second volley of arrows flew, a shaft sunk deep into his left flank. However, the big fighter did not even wince, simply reaching down with his left hand and swiftly pulled out the jagged shaft of wood and rock. Scrambling toward a pillar of stone which barely covered his frame, he gripped the huge war hammer with both hands, silently waiting for Kazuk's next order.

The old veteran crouched behind one of the wooden huts, and assessed the situation. The dim light of the moon began to brighten as the clouds thinned, though it was still too dark to see clearly, even with the orcs enhanced eyesight in the darkness. Though the arrows had flown from the western ridge, Kazuk knew that centaur preferred to ambush. He knew with little uncertainty that the four fighters were surrounded and outnumbered. Looking around at the scene of carnage, Kazuk almost laughed.

"How many Centaur have we really been killing?" he thought to himself half-jokingly.

All at once, the volley of arrows stopped, the thudding sound of their impact abruptly going silent. Several seconds later, Torgan and Shokan lifted their heads from behind the circle of corpses. The clouds overhead began to thin, letting the full moon light filter down into the open canyon. The light was enough to allow the orcs to move with ease, but still too dim to discern between shadows.

A low rumbling began to sound throughout the small valley, echoing off the canyon walls and bouncing back and forth through the open space. It sounded like the distant booms of thunder, as of hundreds of feet striking the ground. Kazuk looked out from behind the wooden shelter, his eyes narrowing as he gazed in the direction of the western entrance.

Moving in the dim light, amorphous blobs shifted and moved like a living sea of darkness. Shouts and cries of rage and hatred began to accompany the rumbling sound. The clang of metal and the slap of leather punctuated the hoof beats as the centaur raced into the valley. Yet most frightening of all was the look on the centaur's faces, a look that Kazuk had known once before. The powerful veteran felt the stirring of fear, mixed with a sense of feral rage.

The centaur's eyes were glowing red, the demonic bloodlust screaming though their souls.

A mighty roar exploded from Kazuk's throat as he leapt from his cover and ran toward the encroaching monstrosities. His black spear held before him like a lance, he moved with a speed surprising for his advanced years. As the forms of the Centaur became more pronounced in the dim light, they halted for a moment to assess the new enemy.

Shokan, Torgan and Braun, spurred by Kazuk's challenging war-cry, moved from their own places of cover, racing to engage the centaur host. Torgan hefted his axe in his right hand, and shouting his own scream of rage into the night sky, rushed to join the old warrior. Shokan tried to get glimpse of the odds, his swift eyes darting to catch the shadowy movements.

There were at least twenty of the crazed horsemen now in the valley, most armed with short swords and spiked clubs. Though Shokan could only count those twenty, movement in the shadows spoke of many more. They were heavily outnumbered, and it was no comfort to know the centaur carried with them the savage demonic bloodlust.

When Kazuk and Torgan reached the first centaur, the younger fighter kicked his feet to the Earth, catapulted his large frame into the air. Holding the mighty battle-axe high above his head, he bellowed out an ear-splitting scream into the night. At the same moment, Torgan brought the axe downward in a brutal chop. The gleaming metal blade connected with the crown of the centaur's human head. There was the slightest fraction of resistance, and then, with a wet squishing sound, the human portion split in two down the center of the skull. The centaur was dead before it hit the ground. Wasting no time, Torgan regained his feet, and spun to meet another opponent.

Kazuk was busy fending off two other centaurs with the shaft of his spear. A shield of wood and hardened stone, formed by the twirling, black-tipped spear, kept the majority of the Centaur's blows from harming the veteran orc. Seeing an opening in the left centaur's guard, Kazuk shifted to the offense, swirling the spear in a horizontal sweep that knocked aside the weapons of both opponents. In a swift one-two strike, The old orc stabbed the left centaur in the human portion's heart, and drove the shaft into the exposed throat of the one on the right.

Shokan leapt about like a madman, his lithe form darting between the grunting, howling shapes of the demonic horsemen. Shrieking curses and challenges that echoed throughout the canyon, he moved like a vengeful force of nature through the centaur ranks. Each time the blade flashed in the dim yet strengthening light, another centaur groaned and whimpered in agony, falling to the ground as it spouted out its death throes.

Of the four combatants, Braun was the only one who seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. A massive grin stretched across the scarred warrior's bovine face, creating a frightening mockery of savage glee. The gigantic war hammer clutched in two hands, it seemed as if a giant had suddenly plucked up an oak tree and swung it about like a child's toy. As the weapon connected with the dark shapes of the centaur, it sent one of the beasts flying high in the air, landing with a sickening thud, accompanied by the cracking of shattered bones.

As the battle seemed to be going well, the centaur moved off, running away from the small party. Torgan began to give chase, while Kazuk remained behind with Braun and the Blademaster. Torgan bellowed in rage after the retreating forms.

"We're not through yet!" roared the furious orc, desperately trying to keep up with his four-legged adversaries. "COME ON! IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT!"

Suddenly, Kazuk remembered what Shokan had said back at Razor Hill, and his head shot up in alarm

"Torgan no, wait! It's a trap!"

The Centaur froze, and all at once, all noise in the canyon stopped, Kazuk's warning echoing off the walls like some ill-fated omen. Then, a mighty roar came from the mass of horse-men. A low, bestial, roar that seemed to become once voice. Like a living sea of hate and madness, the Centaur reared, shifting their retreat, and doubled back to engage the party. Their eyes burned so red they seemed to generate their own infernal light, and the baleful glow of the human orbs filled Kazuk with a cold dread.

The rush came like a hammer, slamming into the party, instantly causing them to go on the defensive. Torgan, ahead of the small party, set his feet to the Earth, and grimaced at the incoming tide. Kazuk lost sight of him as the wave of flesh swept him up and drove forward to the other three warriors. Where they had one fought against the centaur in a fair match of skill versus strength, The orcs and Tauren were now hard-pressed to even defend against the demonic onslaught. Their weapons swirling in a whirlwind of wood, metal and stone, the situation was looking grim indeed. Only a miracle would save them now.

O O O O O

Torgan felt desperate. For the first time in his twenty-three winters, he felt genuine worry. Every orc warrior dreamed of dying nobly in mortal combat, but Torgan had thought it would be in some place more fitting than this stinking canyon of horsemen. Swing the axe in a circle in a dizzying spin, he tried feverishly to keep the centaur from getting a clean blow. However, fatigue from the earlier battle, as well as the current fight against the enhanced centaur was beginning to drain him of the last bits of his stamina.

A blow caught him in the back, sending the big orc crashing to the ground. His axe landed with a loud _clang_ against the stone ground, and Torgan was defenseless. He swiftly turned over onto his back, and watched in grim defiance as one of the centaur raised a large spiked club high above his human head, preparing to smash the orc's skull in. Torgan spat at the beast in contempt, staring into the burning red eyes. Out of the corner of one eye, Torgan almost thought he saw a shadow drop from behind the centaur's form. Time seemed to slow, and the centaur swung his club down.

A wet, slicing sound filled the night air, and Torgan watched in dread fascination as a four-foot piece of bloodstained metal exploded from the Centaur's human chest. It was soon accompanied by a red fountain that gushed from the fatal wound. At that moment, the clouds over the canyon parted, and the bright moonlight of Durotar fully illuminated the canyon. Sitting astride the dying centaur, the long sword clutched in his bloodstained hands, was Sethrezin.

With incredible speed, he jumped straight up from the centaur's equine back, the sword slicing in an upward slash through the chest and out through the shoulder. The centaur fell to the earth, and was silent. In mid-air, the human righted himself, and landed gracefully upon the earth next to Torgan. He lifted his head, and though most of his face was obscured by the moon's glare, Torgan swore he saw the wanderer smile. With an inhuman scream and impossible speed, the human moved his blade in a glittering dance, slashing about the circle of monstrosities that surrounded the prone orc. They screamed, whinnied, and shouted in fear and denial, but nothing could save them from the human's attack. In the space of several seconds, Torgan's attackers were completely destroyed.

Sethrezin brandished his weapon, all five feet of bloody steel, lifting the seemingly cumbersome weapon with one hand. Clutched in his right hand and held straight up, pointing to the sky, he stood firmly with widespread legs, and raised his head to the heavens. From his lips and lungs burst a shriek of challenge and command, a long, animal roar which carried over the corpses of the fallen, over the canyon walls, and over to the group which accosted the three other party members. The centaur paused, peering through the demon blood haze, taking stock of the drastically changed events. For an instant, they examined the human which had come into their midst, and a moment later, they flung down their weapons, and broke into a stampede of fear, thundering off to the west, struggling over each other to escape.

The human gave no chase, and Kazuk raced to the aid of his partner. Shokan and Braun hurried to join him. Torgan continued to stare at the still, standing form of Sethrezin, who, after his soul-shattering scream, had fallen silent as death. Then, as the three orcs and the Tauren gazed in wonder and amazement, the human turned, and stared back at them. Torgan would remember for the rest of his days the sight which greeted him. As the moonlight shone down from parted clouds, the white light glinting off Sethrezin's moondust hair, the young orc felt the stirring of true power.

Sethrezin's amber eyes were glowing.

_Dun-dun-duunnn! The plot thickens. Well, I promised a battle scene and here it is/ I hope you all enjoyed it. Quite a morphing storyline, this one like most of the former being made up as I wrote it. For those of you who are wondering what Sethrezin really is, YOU HAVE TO WAIT AND SEE! I am not saying who or what he is or isn't but it will be something unexpected, or at least, I'll try to make it that way. Thanks for all your support, and I'll try to get the next chapter to you soon! _


	8. Confessions and Discovery

Disclaimer: I still do not own WoW. (But I would love a few nice T-Shirts from BlizzCON!)

Orcs and Humans: Brothers in Blood

_ I'd like to thank everyone for your reviews, and I appreciate that this story still draws a few eyes after my long period of neglect._

_-Seth_

Chapter 8: Confessions and Discovery

The air of the canyon was still as death. The moonlight fell upon the small party, casting dim shadows upon the carnage that had occurred only moments before. Torgan lay prone upon the ground, his burly frame seemingly carved from stone, transfixed by the golden fire burning within Sethrezin's eyes. Shokan and Braun stared in bewilderment at the rigid form of the human as he stared at the small party. Kazuk was the first to recover from the shock, and his scarred face turned livid, letting loose a mighty scream of rage.

"DEMON!" bellowed the old orc, brandishing the obsidian spear. "Treacherous scum! I knew it was wrong to trust you!" He dropped into a low stance, holding his spear like a lance, and rushed at the still figure. At the close range, there was no chance Sethrezin could dodge in time to avoid being skewered.

However, just before the black spear would have pierced his chest, Sethrezin's body seemed to vanish into thin air, reappearing to the left of the extended spear. Lighting-fast, the human's gleaming sword swept down, hitting the spear with the flat of the blade. The impact carried such might that Kazuk stood shaken for a fraction of a moment. Sethrezin wasted no time, and with one hand pinning the spear to the earth, he gripped the spear shaft in the other, and wrenched the weapon from Kazuk's vice-like hands. Caught off-balance by the unexpected move, Kazuk pitched forward, his face coming within inches of the treacherous human. He gazed for only a moment into the amber eyes, and could not believe what he saw.

Sadness…

The altercation shocked Braun and Shokan out of their lethargy. Shokan gripped his sword and rushed at the human, his eye seething with hate. Braun simply stood with his hammer held lightly in his hands, looking on with more curiosity than anger. Torgan began to move, though he still lay upon the ground, his axe held loosely in his hands.

Shokan reached him quickly, and Sethrezin raised his sword to meet the Blademaster's fury. Shokan swung his sword low, attempting to rob the human of his great speed. Nimbly sidestepping, Sethrezin countered with a downward slash from his long blade, keeping the flat of the sword exposed so as not to harm the orc. Pivoting quickly, Shokan swung his blade upward, caught the inevitable parry, and swung two blindingly fast horizontal slashes. The first was knocked aside, and as Sethrezin shifted the blade to intercept the second, he moved forward, putting all his weight upon the blade, knocking the young Blademaster off-balance, and causing him to lean right with the momentum caused by the powerful counterattack. Sethrezin spun quickly, turned his blade and brought the flat edge down upon the back of Shokan's neck with a hard thud. Shokan groaned once, and collapsed to the ground.

Watching Shokan fall snapped Torgan out of his stupor, he gripped his axe, but could not bring himself to attack the human. Through all the anger and shock which now filled his heart, a single thought prevented him from moving to strike Sethrezin.

The human had saved his life.

Kazuk rose to his feet, his large hands scrambling to retrieve his spear. As his hands found the shaft, he felt the cold metal of a sword at his throat. Turning his head to face the human, he looked up at the tall form. His face twisting into a grimace of defiance and disgust, he spat at the human which had betrayed him.

"Finish it then, you lying bastard."

"I have no desire to kill you old soldier. I just saved your life."

From the outcropping of rocks where the spear had been cast, a chittering began to rise from the dark. An instant later, a large scorpid barreled out of the shadows. In a blink, Sethrezin's blade left the veteran fighter's throat, sweeping down and cleaving the huge arachnid in two.

Silence once again filled the canyon. The moonlight began to fade as the clouds moved to shroud the shining orb. The putrid odor of the centaur corpses burned the nostrils of the small party as the wind blew the awful stench in their direction. Kazuk stared at the scorpid's green blood upon the long curve of Sethrezin's sword, mixing with the fresh red and dry black blood of the slain demon centaur. He looked up once more at the silver-haired human, only now the old orc's eyes were filled with wonder rather than hate.

"What in the name of the Spirits are you?"

Seth did not answer right away. His amber eyes flashed momentarily before returning to the sorrow-filled gaze of before. His proud face softened, and he raised his head to the sky to look at the dying light, the wind causing his silver hair to billow out in a flowing cascade behind him.

"A tortured soul, like the orcs. I am like you in more ways than you could imagine."

"I am tired of your cryptic answers Sethrezin!" Kazuk retorted. "I want a straight answer from you now, or I will make certain that you rot out here in the wilderness with the rest of this demon filth!"

Sethrezin gazed long at Kazuk, knowing the veteran would make good on his word, though his effort seemed futile. The human turned his gaze toward the others, Torgan still brandishing his axe, but making no move to attack. Shokan began to stir as he regained consciousness, and Braun's huge frame stood in stolid silence as he waited for events to unfold. With a sigh, he surrendered. He wiped his blade upon the fabric of his cloak, yet no mark was left upon the white material. From the folds of the robe, he drew the staff which he had carried to the walls of Orgrimmar, and with a smooth_ shlick_, returned the long sword to its sheath.

"I know of the bloodlust which once corrupted your people, Kazuk. I know of Mannoroth, the demon which controlled your race with his blood geas. I know much about the Burning Legion, and the evil it spread throughout the universe."

Kazuk drew in a swift breath, and stared shrewdly at the human, with no small amount of skepticism.

"How could you know about the demons! You could not even have been more than a whelp when the orcs came to Azeroth! You know nothing of the bloodlust we felt!"

Kazuk was passionate about this. He was one of the few surviving orcs who had lived within the human interment camps, and one of the very few still living orcs who had come to Azeroth during the time of the First War. He could still remember Draenor, and the dark thrill and pain caused by demonic corruption.

"I know," Sethrezin replied, raising his head to meet the Kazuk's gaze. "Because I once felt the same bloodlust myself."

Kazuk's eyes widened, and Torgan stepped forward to stand at Kazuk's side. Shokan came forward to flank them, and the Tauren clomped forward to hear more of the human's story.

"Yours was not the only race the demons tried to enslave. They once saw some humans who possessed the potential to become instruments of destruction. Needless to say, I was once one of those. I have forgotten most of my humanity, and left the majority of it to turn to dust."

Sethrezin paused here, as if remembering caused him pain. Though his tall figure remained still, Kazuk could feel him shuddering. After composing himself, the human continued.

"I once fought for the Legion, a spy in the mortal world, awaiting the time of their return."

The orcs and Tauren lurched, shocked at this latest revelation. The younger orcs flanked Kazuk, holding their weapons at the ready, but Kazuk silenced them with a single harsh glare. Turning his gaze back to Sethrezin, the old orc waited for him to continue.

"For nearly three hundred years I waited, moving in secret, gathering information, spreading influence among the mortal races, destroying those whom I believed posed a serious threat. I thought there was no other reason for living. I existed only to please my demon masters."

At this point, the sorrow on Sethrezin's face became so defined, it seemed to cast a shadow across his very being. His brilliant eyes lost their fire, and the amber orbs dulled to a shrouded brown.

"Then something happened, and for a time, I forgot my mission, and the evil of my Master. I questioned my purpose, and lost sight of the possibility that the Legion would return. For a short time, I lived a normal life like any man would."

Another pause, and then he continued, anger lacing his normally serene voice.

"Then they did return. Archimonde and the Legion returned to lay waste to the world. Kil'jaeden and his deceptive minions returned to call back his wayward servants. I fought as best I could, but in the end, I could not resist the Demon's fire. Drawn once more to the blood rage, I slaughtered all who challenged me. Nothing could stop the power which flowed through me like wildfire. _I_ was the very Hand of Chaos, and I destroyed all for the glory Kil'jaeden."

"It was not until Grom Hellscream destroyed Mannoroth that I was freed from the bloodlust. But by then it was too late. I had destroyed everything that I had come to cherish as a man. I wandered for months before I learned of the defeat of Archimonde at Mt. Hyjal, and of Kil'jaeden's loss of control over the Lich King. So I left the Eastern Kingdoms, to seek the aid of the Orcish Horde.

Sethrezin gazed again at the solemn faces of his companions, looking for the revulsion he was so used to.

"Why didn't you tell this to the Warchief?" asked Kazuk.

"Would you really have helped me if I had told you I was a three hundred-twenty year old former spy of the Burning Legion?" There was a bitter sarcasm in the human's voice, as if he knew the ridiculous futility of such an explanation.

"No, I guess he would've have." Kazuk measured his words, wondering if he could trust his own voice. Part of him told him to slay the human on the spot for his deception, while another part felt something deeper. For the first time, the old warrior could see the heavy burden upon the human, and almost felt compassion toward this man who had known the pain of the orcs blood curse more heavily than any other of their race.

"So now you know why I desire to destroy the Demonlord. I have my own reasons for wanting to see him dead."

"So you would seek to use the Horde to realize your own vengeance!" shouted Shokan, anger creeping into his voice again.

Sethrezin laughed bitterly, the sound bouncing off the canyon walls. "I will not deny that I want vengeance, but I realized long ago that my own absolution is unimportant. I will never allow another race to be used for the purging of worlds. Human, orcs, or otherwise. The Burning Legion, and all its twisted creations, must be cleansed from existence!"

The silver-haired human drew himself back up, and the fire returned to his golden eyes.

"I ask you, no, I beg you for your help! I cannot defeat both the Lich King and Kil'jaeden alone. They will not stop until they have scoured all life from Azeroth!"

Kazuk stared long at Seth. Both stood on equal level, gazing into each other's eyes. Power crackled in the air, their wills battling each other. There was challenge in the shared gaze, but within, there was understanding, and a desperate plea for help. When the silent war ended, it was Kazuk who spoke first.

"We will help you for now, Sethrezin, but the Warchief is going to know what you are. He will decide what to do with you. Until then, there will be a truce." Kazuk gaze hardened. "But if you betray us, or act in a way that even resembles influence from the demons…" Kazuk trailed off, but gripped his spear more tightly, and the obsidian stone glinted ominously in the moonlight. Next to him, Torgan tightened his grip on his axe, and Shokan lightly stroked the hilt of his katana.

Seth smiled ever so slightly. "I think we understand each other perfectly."

OOOOO

"Why did you run off into the canyons?" Torgan asked as the party resumed their search. "You led us on a chase to retrieve what we thought would be your corpse." Torgan was still a bit peeved at having been saved by a human, but he could no longer bring himself to despise Sethrezin on principle. He was a young orc, but he understood honor, and was not so proud as to downplay something as important as a life debt.

"I wondered what would cause the centaur to become corrupted. Something which carries such an intense demonic influence would not just appear out of nowhere. Something has changed in this area as of late, and I think that when we find it, we will find the cause of the centaur's taint."

Shokan listened in silence, and walked alongside the Tauren warrior. Braun kept glancing at the walls of the canyon, and pausing every so often to press his head against the stones, as if listening for something. The Blademaster stared at the big Tauren and wondered if the warrior had finally lost his mind.

"What are you looking for Braun?" Shokan asked when he could no longer contain his curiosity. "Are there more centaur?"

"Malvon," Braun answered simply.

"Malvon!" Shokan exclaimed, drawing glances from his companions. "I almost forgot about him. Where did he go?" The shaman had been gone much longer than expected. Shokan wondered why he had chosen to stay with the Kodo, but had not said anything against the older Tauren's decision.

"Malvon said he was going to look for another way into the pass," Kazuk offered. "But he should have been back by now."

"When did he leave?" asked Seth, coming closer to the other, halting the search.

"We separated just before entering the canyon." Shokan replied. " He didn't want to leave the Kodo outside. You would think a shaman would just be able to split the mountains wide open, but apparently he chose to find another way."

Braun turned his head into the wind, and sniffed the air. His large eyes narrows, and he hefted his war hammer, holding it at the ready. He gestured with his head toward the west, deeper into the canyon a grimace spreading across his scarred face.

"Something down there." he grumbled, stomping the ground with one cloven hoof.

Seth pulled his staff from within his cloak, unsheathing his long sword. His silver hair billowed as the wind picked up. Raising his own face into the wind, he sniffed at the air. The foul, unwashed stench of centaur flesh still filled the air, but there was another odor with it, one that Seth could not identify. Glancing at his Torgan and the others, he waited for their decision.

"Something in here stirred up the centaur enough to attack Razor Hill. We may as well find it now."

With that, The small party began making their way further into the canyon. Oddly enough, the centaur had seemed to disappear, as if they had fled entirely when they had seen Sethrezin destroy their brethren. For some reason, now knowing what he did about Seth's past, Kazuk felt it was more than mere coincidence.It still shocked him to know that the human walking next to him had been a thrall of the Burning Legion, a being who lived only for bloodshed. The implications of such a thing had never occurred to him before, as the ingrained thought had been that humans were nothing more than an inferior race, little more than fodder to sate the demon's hunger for carnage. He had a deeper understanding of the human now, and in some small part of his soul, a flicker of respect for the strange man had begun to take root.

They came then to another open area of the canyon, this one ringed once more by the crude centaur dwellings. However, unlike the one seen earlier within the canyon, this one was better kept, and in a relatively pristine state of repair. The huts were much larger, the animal skins stretched over the tents of luxurious quality. At the far western end of the clearing, one hut towered above all others. It was circular shelter nearly twenty feet tall, and twice that distance wide. It appeared deserted, but a campfire still burned within, the embers smoldering with a dull orange glow.

Sethrezin advanced upon the large tent, drawn there by some unknown force. The unusual scent upon the wind seemed to emanate from the large tent, and Seth moved forward ahead of the rest to investigate. As he moved forward, a heavy hand clamped onto his shoulder.

"Not again, human," came Torgan's gruff voice. "I'm tired of you going ahead of the rest of us. If I have to come chasing after you again, I'll kill you just to rid myself of your annoying presence." There was true annoyance in the young warrior's voice, but something else was barely noticeable beneath it. Frustration yes, but what almost seemed like the smallest bit of… humor?

Seth smiled to himself, and slowed his pace to match that of the young orc. Together, they peered into the darkness of the tent. Kazuk and Shokan entered just behind them, keeping their eyes on any movement in the clearing. Braun stayed behind to guard the entrance, the huge hammer gripped in his massive hands. The scarred Tauren warrior seemed to be growing increasingly uneasy, and intensely watched flickering shadows cast by the moonlight.

Torgan stooped to light a torch from the glowing embers of the forgotten fire, and when the flames caught on the cloth and wood of the torch, the large structure was illuminated for the small party to inspect. Seth had seen many things in his long life, but what he glimpsed before him then was definitely a first.

The torchlight cast its orange glow upon two figures upon a far wall. They were most certainly dead, their skin slashed to ribbons, blood flowing from over a dozen wounds. But what was most baffling was what the bodies were. One appeared to be a blue-skinned male troll, and the other, even more shocking, was undoubtedly a female night elf! They were huddled together, clutching each other, and something lay bundled between the two of them, as if they had died striving to protect whatever they concealed. Seth had never heard of a troll and an elf being in the same region without trying to kill one another, so why did these two appear to be so close even in death. Seth moved closer to the two bodies. Behind him, Shokan drew closer to inspect as well. From the look on the Blademaster's face, he was just as shocked as Seth.

As they drew closer to the figures, the bundle between them stirred. It was wrapped in a blood-stained woolen cloth, and when it moved, it seemed to groan with discomfort. With his katana held at the ready, Shokan waited for Sethrezin to act. Gingerly, the human lifted the edge of the blanket, and threw off the cover to reveal its contents. Once again, he was shocked.

Staring up at him with wide eyes filled with fear, a small female troll, perhaps no older than seven years, shivered in the chill air. Seth instantly knew that she was no ordinary troll. The hands were normal, having only the thumb and two long digits. The ears were also normal, long and stretching far back behind the head. However, she had no tusks nor fangs, and the eyes were much larger than any normal troll. Her skin was the same color as that of her protectors, the purple color of the sky at twilight. Her iris' were of a strange lavender color, almost pink it was so light, and her shoulder-length mop of scraggly hair was also that same shade of pale lavender. She stared at Seth in fear and wonder, then shrank back in sheer terror as her wide eyes fell upon Shokan and his drawn steel.

"Put it away Shokan," Seth whispered quickly, not wanting to frighten to poor child anymore than she already was. She was one of the most unusual creatures he had ever witnessed, and he was baffled that such a hybrid could exist between two races which held such animosity toward each other. Very slowly, he extended his hand towards the child.

"Don't be afraid little one," he said in a soothing voice. "We won't hurt you."

As he moved closer, the child leaped forward, sinking her small teeth into his extended hand. Seth winced slightly, but did not draw away. Her eyes stayed open as her jaw clamped down. He felt the trickle of blood begin to flow from the bite, but moved his other hand closer to stroke the hair of the young girl. Her eyes were liquid with fright, but past the fear, he could see the strong spirit of defiance.

"Poor thing," he murmured, "I can imagine the evils you have seen. But that is over for you now." All the while, he continued to stroke her head, and kept his voice in a soft whisper. "Don't worry. From this day on, you will be blessed with better fortune."

His amber eyes gazed into the lavender orbs of the girl, and they watched each other. Slowly, she let go of the pressure on his hand, and lifted both her hands to grip his. He watched as the fear gradually left her eyes, replaced by a sort of wary trust. Still, the pressure increased, and he squeezed her hands once for reassurance. Very slowly, the troll child rose to her feet, gingerly pushing aside the arms of her two protectors. As she gazed at them, her eyes filled once more with tears. No sobs escaped her trembling lips, but her small body began shaking uncontrollably. Torgan, Kazuk, and Shokan's normally stoic faces grew solemn as they closed their eyes and silently paid their respects to the fallen. The three orcs were just as shocked at the what the two were, but they had died fighting to protect what was theirs, and that meant they had warrior hearts.

Seth placed a hand upon the troll-girl's shoulder, and drew back in surprise when she turned and buried her face against his waist, clinging to the torn fabric of his robes. Seth smiled to himself, but inwardly he thought "What am I getting myself into?"

"Sethrezin" came the heavy voice of Braun from outside.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Something's coming."

Seth began to move toward the exit, but felt a tug on his cloak. The child stood rooted in place, her liquid eyes staring up at him. He gazed down at her, then raised his head and looked sheepishly at Kazuk. The old warrior lifted a brow, then hefting his spear, moved to join the big Tauren at the hut's door. Torgan rolled his eyes, and Shokan grunted in what almost sounded like a chuckle. Seth knelt down to look into the child's eyes.

"We have to go now. We are going to get you out of here all right?" The troll-girl stared long into his golden eyes, then slowly nodded her head. However, she did not let go of his cloak.

As Seth moved slowly toward the exit, taking small steps with the child in tow, he began to feel a faint tremor. Every few seconds it boomed through the canyon, as of something heavy hitting the ground. With each boom, the child drew closer, until she was holding onto his leg when Seth finally exited the large hut. When he looked around, he saw that his companions were fully armed and ready for battle. The looked to the west, off into the direction of the winding canyon where the moon did not cast it's light. The booming sound seemed to originate from that direction.

In another instant it became apparent what the sound was, and more horrific once the reality of it registered. Looming out of the darkness, like some terrible nightmare given life, came a monstrous centaur, nearly as tall as Braun and much broader. His eyes burned with the same crimson fire as the others, but this creature seemed to resonate with evil, pure rage emanating from its massive form. Scraggly black hair covered the entire equine body, while the face was covered with black bristles, twisted into a mask of hate. It fixed the small party with a baleful glare, and its eyes lighted upon Sethrezin and the small child at his side. With a sinister roar it screamed at the human.

"You'll not take my prize from me man-demon. My new master's power shall make me invincible!"

The large centaur began to run toward the party, and the five warriors braced themselves for the attack. However, just as the Centaur Khan was about to enter the clearing, a huge explosion of rock and dust shook the canyon walls. The entire western wall of the canyon collapsed inward, as if the Earth itself was being split asunder. The Khan abruptly halted his charge, surprise momentarily overriding his rage. When the dust cleared, he found himself looking into the scaly open maw of a massive Kodo beast. The Khan had barely enough time to scream as the huge lizard moved forward, and the mighty jaws clamped down on his human portion, and lifted the equine body high into the air. Then, with a toss of it head, the Kodo's jaws opened slightly, gulping down the body.

The dust settled, and as the five members of the small party looked on in wonder, Malvon Windstrider stood atop his mount, gazing down with a grin upon his large face.

"Am I late?" the Tauren called down, his grin growing with each moment.

"On the contrary, good Shaman." Seth shouted back with a laugh. "Your timing couldn't be more perfect!

At that moment, the Kodo let out a great belch which shook the walls of the canyon. Seth held his tongue for a moment, but began to chuckle. Looking around at the others, he saw they were barely holding back laughs of their own. They all looked at each other, and started chuckling together. In a few seconds, each was laughing without reservation.

For that single brief moment, they were comrades.

When the laughter had subsided, Malvon came down to join the others. In tow, following the Kodo, were Wintersbreath and Shadowmane, the wolves which had brought Kazuk and Torgan to the ambush.

"What happened to you?" Kazuk grunted. "We were beginning to worry!"

"I moved along the northern canyon wall, but I couldn't find a larger entry path. When I heard all the commotion below, I tried to investigate, but the Kodo seemed intent on going further north. Something drew him there I guess." Malvon's face split into another wide grin. "I think I was right to listen to him this time?"

"Yes. Of course." Torgan muttered, fixing the Tauren shaman with a wan stare.

"Anyway," Malvon continued, "I followed the Kodo's lead until we got to that spot, and he stopped there. So I opened the rock and let him in."

"Wait." interrupted Shokan. "Why didn't you just do that back when we entered the canyon?"

"The spirits said it was better to open the earth elsewhere." Malvon replied simply.

The three orcs shook their heads simultaneously. Once again, none of them would ever understand mystics. Braun looked at his friend, and a grin was exchanged between the two Tauren.

"You all seem the worse for wear," stated Malvon, his eyes roving over the party, and coming to rest upon Sethrezin and the troll/elf-child clinging to his side. "And carrying a bit of extra baggage it would seem. Tell me, my human friend, who is this new addition?"

"We will answer all your questions later Malvon." Undoing to clasp of his white cloak, Sethrezin draped the long garment over the child's shoulders, and smiling at her when her eyes rose to meet his in surprise.

"I am sure we all have questions to ask of each other…"

_Well, there it is! Chapter eight complete, and Whew! Probably the longest yet, but I am making up for lost time. Anyway, big shout-out thanks to Phelgryn for jolting me out of my slump. This chapter had to be sum up the last and answer a few questions, but I felt it would be best to end this chapter by getting out of the Centaur area. _

_I hope you all enjoyed the Kodo "devouring" sequence. I have had that image in my head for a while. And who is the strange troll/elf hybrid which seems to have latched onto Sethrezin, whose past is now slightly revealed? This story is getting bigger than even I could imagine. Keep the reviews coming, and I promise to keep the story rolling. Thanks again for all your support!_

_-Seth_


	9. Tal'Wynn

Disclaimer: I do not own WOW, its subsidiaries, or anything that might give me more of the cash I desperately need. (JK!)

Chapter 9: Tal'wynn

The journey out of the tainted gorge was considerably quieter than the voyage in. Utilizing the opening created by Malvon's dramatic entrance, the party gained a faster way to the open desert plain. Torgan and Kazuk had remounted their wolves, and the graceful animals moved swiftly yet silently toward the east, followed closely by the Blademaster, who still chose to go on foot. The great Kodo beast lumbered after them, guided by the firm yet gentle hand of the Shaman. Braun had remained locked in his customary silence, though he had grunted something of a greeting to Malvon before settling down upon the Kodo's back.

Sethrezin had said nothing since he had clambered atop the Kodo. Malvon sensed something different in the human, a weariness he had not noticed before. The three orcs seemed different as well in their attitude toward the unusual wanderer. Shokan viewed the human more suspiciously than before, the Blademaster's hand never very far from his weapon's hilt. Kazuk might well have been made of chiseled stone, for he had said nothing since signaling the party to move. Torgan behavior was most unusual. The young warrior seemed subdued, almost lethargic, moving mechanically on the back of Shadowmane. Every now and again, he would toss a glance in the direction of the lumbering Kodo, though the distance was to great to read the Orc's expression. Something had transpired between the orcs and Sethrezin, though none would say anything. Malvon knew he would get nothing from Braun, so the shaman had let the Tauren warrior be. A turning point had been reached, and the human was now somehow…more than what he had been.

Malvon was more intrigued about the group's unusual new passenger. The little troll/elf girl had drawn his curiosity, but he had seen the shining terror in her small, wide eyes. The Tauren mystic was knew very well the evil of the centaur, and though he was known to be slow to anger, he felt his own rage swelling at the thought of what that child had witnessed. Strangely enough, in so short a time, it seemed that she had latched onto the group's wayward member. She had not left Sethrezin's side once since he had rediscovered his comrades. Swathed in the human's white cloak, she had drifted off to sleep still clinging tightly to Sethrezin's pant's leg, as if he had become her anchor to sanity. The girl whimpered now and then, plagued by memories of whatever it was she had seen.

Malvon was a teacher, a Tauren mystic who spoke to the young ones about the wonder and majesty of the natural world. He was also a father to five calves, each of whom he cared for more dearly than his own life. He watched over his charges with a firm yet kind hand. Many of the young tauren of Thunder Bluff knew of the Windstrider, and he was seen as a father to more than just his own offspring. He had known the girl for only a few hours, but he cared for her as he would his own. Glancing once more back to her sleeping form, the shaman made a silent vow. As long as he still drew breath, this child would never again know the terror he had seen in her eyes. Turning his attention back to the road ahead, Malvon gazed joyfully at the first red streaks on the horizon, heralding the coming of the new dawn.

OOOOO

_She could feel the shadows closing in on her. All around, she heard things. Horrible things, terrifying things. They were getting closer, always closer. She tried to run, but her legs wouldn't move. Frozen to the ground in fear, she stood alone in pitch black, and heard the evil things in the shadows draw near. Clomping footsteps, harsh, guttural grunts and jeering laughter echoed all around her. Nothing she did could shut out the sick terror which settled in her heart. _

_Mama and Papa weren't there. She couldn't find them. She tried to scream for them, but no sound came out. Where were they! Were they safe. They had said they would always be together! She had never been alone, never without Mama and Papa. They were always nearby. Where had they gone?_

_She felt something then. Something touched her on the crown of her head. That simple touch broke through the fear, the frozen terror she had felt. She opened her mouth and screamed. _

_And screamed…and screamed.  
_

OOOOO

"NOOO!" the troll/elf girl bolted upright, her lavender eyes stretched wide with fright. Her three-fingered hands were clenched into tight fists, swinging at anything in reach. The nightmare had been so intense and vivid she continued to scream after she was well-awake, her young voice filling the dawning sky with her terror. "STAY AWAY!"

Seconds later she felt strong pressure on her shoulder, and turned quickly with her small fist, striking out in defiance. When her fist connected with something hard and solid, she felt some small satisfaction through the fear when the pressure relaxed slightly. Yet it was fleeting, for her fear came back and she continued to struggle. All she knew was that she had to get away, she had to hide, or they would find her again. Then a deep yet quiet voice cut through the dim shadows, sparking her curiosity.

"It's all right, child," it said in soothing tones. "You are safe now. We won't hurt you."

The voice continued to speak reassurances, and as it filled her young ears, she slowly stopped struggling, and began to take stock of her new surroundings. She was wrapped in a luxurious cloth, so white it looked like it was shining. It covered the remnants of her tattered clothes, and flowed out onto a thick, leathery surface that seemed to be moving. Surprised but too frightened to be alarmed, the she realized she was on the back of one of the huge lizards she had seen while traveling with Mama and Papa. Moving her head up, she followed her ears to the source of the voice. As she became accustomed to the dim light, her eyes widened in wonder. The creature who filled her eyes now was like none she had seen before.

Its skin was a very light brown, the color of the beach sand Papa had shown her once. The ears were small, only extending out a short distance from its head. The hands that gripped her shoulders had five digits, like her mother's, but thicker and with shorter fingers. The hair was very long, falling across its back and hanging in two tendrils across the forehead, and it shimmered like the light of the full moon. Yet most amazing of all were the eyes. They were golden yellow, so bright they almost seemed to glow in the dim morning light.

She had never seen such eyes. Her mother's eyes had been dark blue, and her father's black as night. In that instant, as her young eyes gazed into the twin jewel-like orbs of this strange being, she remembered everything. It had carried her out of the bad place; out of the shadows which had taken Mama and Papa. She remembered seeing them in the dim light of the monster's hut. Though she was young of years, she knew well the presence of death. As she remembered, the horrible truth began to fully assert itself within her.

Mama and Papa were gone. They were never coming back.

As her nightmare had shown her, she was all alone. Her shoulders began shaking again, and her head dropped to stare at the Kodo's back beneath her feet. As she began trembling so hard that she began to shudder, the pressure on her shoulders increased slightly. On a broken sob, she once again threw herself against the tall form and clung. Though she sobbed heavily, no tears moistened the gray robes of her savior. She had cried herself dry.

"It will be all right child," the golden-eyed creature said in a quiet, soothing voice. "I promised that you would be blessed with better fortune."

As she held on tightly to the gray clothes of her rescuer, she felt its arms circle around her shoulders, and held her lightly. Though she was alone, and lost in a strange place among bizarre beings, in that instant, she felt safe, protected by the odd creature's strong arms. Slowly, she ceased her sobbing, and her trembling quieted. It was some time before her savior spoke again.

"What is your name child?" he asked softly. It almost seemed as if he did not expect an answer, and simply wished to satisfy his curiosity. She said nothing

"My name is Sethrezin, though some call me Seth. You can too if you like."

Still nothing. The girl would not speak.

"You have never seen a human before have you child? I can understand your fear."

She felt no fear when she raised her head and looked once more into the creature's eyes. Instead, she felt very much at ease, safe and secure within the circle of his arms. In fact, it felt much like it did when Papa held her, on nights when the shadows were darker than others. In that respect, she felt some similarity between her father and this strange being with the golden eyes. And in some small corner of her heart, past all the anguish and the fear, a small glimmer of hope and trust flickered to life.

"Tal…Wynn." she said slowly, in a quiet, hesitant voice.

"Hmmm?" came the reply, more a questioning sigh than anything else.

"My name…" the girl replied, "My name is Tal'Wynn."

Seth smiled warmly, gazing into the child's lavender eyes. He moved one hand to rest lightly on the crown of her head.

"Wynn then. May I call you Wynn?"

His response was only slight nod of the girl's head, and for a fraction of an instant, he thought he small the faint glimmer of a smile.

From the reins of the Kodo, Malvon looked back at the human and child, and the shaman's eyes warmed with silent pride and joy.

OOOOO

The morning came swiftly after the crack of dawn, and the three orcs that rode ahead of the small party met it with mixed reactions. So much had transpired in the course of a single night that the three of them were each at a loss. The demon centaur had apparently been defeated, but the cause of their corruption was still unknown. Sethrezin's past as an agent of the Burning Legion was partially revealed, but still left so many questions unanswered. Most baffling of all was the strange troll/elf child which seemed to have silently attached herself to the party. While Kazuk would never have left the child in that evil place either, he did not know what could be done with the child. The Darkspear trolls of Sen'jin were proud warriors and devoted to the cohesion of the tribe, Kazuk doubted they would easily accept the offspring of a troll/elf pairing, which was taboo in the minds of trolls and elves alike.

"Once we reach Razor Hill," said Shokan, breaking the silence, "I must remain. I will send word to the Warchief of what has transpired."

"Very well," replied Kazuk. "Send word of the centaur and the battle, but say nothing of Sethrezin."

"What?" cried Shokan "The Warchief must know! He must decided what is to be done!"

"The Warchief ordered us to meet with the trolls and Tauren, and we will obey! A warrior does not leave his task unfinished."

"But you heard him yourself Kazuk," Shokan pressed on. "The human said he was one of Kil'jaeden's minions. How do we know this isn't just a trap to avenge the Legion's defeat?"

Kazuk had thought of that himself too, after learning of Sethrezin's past. He still was in a state of shock that the human had once been part of the demonic army which had destroyed Draenor, and had nearly consumed Azeroth. But then he remembered that Seth had also felt Mannoroth's burning blood within his viens, and shared the bloodlust that swept through the orcs like an evil plague. The horde had suffered much at the hands of the Burning Legion, transformed into living weapons of war. But this single human had lost just as much, if not more. The orcs had lost their noble spirit and proud lineage. Sethrezin had lost his soul. Although the old warrior felt betrayal at the human keeping such a past secret from the Warchief and the Horde, Kazuk could not bring himself to hate him.

"Warchief Thrall instructed us to protect the human, even if we must protect him from himself."

"Tell me old soldier," said Torgan, the first words the young orc had said since emerging from the centaur canyon. "Do you think we can trust the human?"

Kazuk turned slightly to regard Torgan more closely. The brash warrior had been oddly subdued since their return to the open plain, and Kazuk doubted it was fatigue. Ever since Sethrezin had almost single-handedly destroyed the bulk of the centaur tribe in the canyon, not to mention saving his life, Torgan had been strangely unnerved. Kazuk did not have an answer.

"Time will answer that question." Kazuk replied. "Until then, we will complete our mission. We will regroup with the delegation in Razor Hill, and continue to Sen'jin village. When we return to Orgrimmar, the Warchief will decide what to do with Sethrezin." Kazuk fixed Shokan with a hard look, and added,

"Understood?"

"Understood," muttered Shokan, unsatisfied, but wise enough to know when to be silent.

Their conversation ended, and the three orcs resumed their trek across the wastes of Durotar. The sun was just cresting the horizon, and the temperature began to rise rapidly. In the distance, the smoke rising from Razor Hill could be seen, and the spires of the watch towers were barely visible in the brightening morning light.

_This chapter is shorter than the other I know, but I think it is better to end it here than create confusion in the next chapter. We'll be getting back on topic, and things will get a little more action oriented. We have seen a party-sized element in combat, but what would a real battle look like with a powerhouse like Sethrezin in charge? And what of our hero's new charge? Wynn is going to be a BIG part of the story, but in what way even I don't know. Thanks for all your reviews, and this story will continue as long as _you _want it to. Until next time!_


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